The Gathering of Supernatural Psychopaths
by Marcus S. Lazarus
Summary: -Sequel to 'Coven of Reformed Supernaturals'- Aided by the return of an old friend, as well as a new member in the form of Spawn, the Coven must face a team of the most demented killers the world has ever known... the Gathering of Supernatural Psychopaths
1. The Gathering Comes

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the members of the Coven, nor do I own the Coven's allies, or the various members of the Gathering

Feedback: I'd appreciate that, trust me

AN: If you haven't read my story 'The Coven of Reformed Supernaturals', do so now before you read this; it provides more information into the 'team' that Cogliostro mentions

AN 2: Just to clarify, the Spawn here comes from the movie; I don't know enough about the comics to write about that version of Spawn effectively, and it all sounds very complicated anyway

The Gathering of Supernatural Psychopaths

In a distant street in a crowded American city, a tall man wearing a long blood-red coat pulled up around his face, a wide hat jammed down over his head to the extent that only his eyes were visible through the shadows, walked through the mass of humanity around him, his eyes constantly scanning his surroundings for the figure that he had come here to seek. It had been a long time since there had been activity that would merit his attention on this scale, and, as much as he would deny it under oath, he was eager to give his powers a chance to tackle a foe that he could fight with no restraint necessary once again.

_It's been too long since this bastard tried something_… the man thought to himself as he glanced around, his eyes piercing his surroundings as he scanned for the tell-tale face paint that would give away his intended target for this search…

Then he saw the man in question, standing at the corner of a nearby alley, chuckling slightly as he looked in the seeker's direction. The seeker didn't bother to dignify the target with an actual response; he just clenched his fists (Still stuffed in his pockets) and turned around to walk towards the target, who, annoyingly enough, didn't even seem that intimidated by his presence.

Eventually, the two men were standing right next to each other, although the target was still looking up at the seeker; the target, after all, _was _at least a foot and a half shorter than his opponent, even if he was at least twice as wide.

"You got a lot of guts coming out here after what happened the last time," the seeker said, growling down at the target.

"Oh, really?" the target replied, chuckling up at the other man. "I'd hardly call it gutsy to come after you, girly-man; you only beat me last time by a fluke."

"Yeah; I cut your fucking head off while you screamed like a girl and made pathetic threats that you had no chance of carrying out," the seeker growled back, flexing his fingers in his pockets as though he was itching to get them around this guy's throat and squeeze. "Real 'fluke', if you ask me. What makes you think you'll be able to stop me this time?"

"Oh, a few things," the target replied, as he chuckled up at his foe. "Care to come and find out just what makes me so confident, Simmons?"

Sighing, the man formerly known as Al Simmons, but now generally thought of by all as Spawn, glared down at his target as he removed his hat and turned down the collars of his coat, revealed a hairless head with brown, badly burnt skin and shockingly green eyes. In most cases, the mere sight of such a head would have sent people running, mainly on the grounds that anything that could remain standing after taking the kind of damage that would cause such an appearance was definitely _not_ a force to be trifled with, but, unfortunately, the target was not one of those.

Of course, given that the foe in question was the demon known as the Violator, who spent most of his time on Earth in the form of an overweight man in blue-and-white face paint (Earning him the mocking nickname of 'Clown', naturally), the appearance of the former US assassin had little effect.

"Look, _Clown_," Spawn said, glaring at his old nemesis, "why don't we just bypass all this dumbass 'foreplay' and just get down to the bit where I kick your ass once again, huh?"

"Oh no, little Spawny," a voice suddenly said from off to one side, "it isn't nice to hit clowns, you know. I'm afraid I'll have to punish you for that."

"What the…?" Spawn said, turning to look in the direction of the voice and suddenly finding himself up against the wall with a demented-looking brunette glaring at him with a look of dementia in her eyes as she smiled up at Spawn.

Clown chuckled as Spawn looked in confusion at the woman.

"May I present my latest ally?" the demon said, chuckling as Spawn stared in confusion as the woman bared a remarkably long pair of nails and grinned at Spawn, revealing abnormally sharp canine teeth. "This is Drusilla; over two hundred years of total insanity, brutal murder, blood-drinking madness, and a body count that makes most wars look small. If she wasn't technically dead, I'd try and do her."

Spawn coughed and choked slightly as Drusilla squeezed. He'd never been able to ascertain whether or not he actually _needed_ to breath any more- after all, he was technically dead, but he still seemed to have a heartbeat and other details that generally indicated the presence of life-, but even without any confirmation of that, it was still uncomfortable having this woman's hand around his throat.

Of course, her razor-sharp nails might have something to do with _that_…

"Well…" he muttered, as he glared at the woman, "As good… as it is… to meet her… get… her… OFF OF ME!" he roared, as he lashed out with one of his chains at his new adversary, smiling in relief as she reeled back, one cheek and a shoulder bleeding profusely.

As he landed on the ground once again, Spawn quickly shrugged his coat off, revealing a predominately black costume with a large elaborate white M on the chest that might have been called skin-tight if it wasn't quite so obviously bulky. The most distinctive features about Spawn's new garb, however, was the large red cloak that swept out behind him almost like a living creature, and the black mask with large white 'eyes' that had suddenly covered his head.

Under the new head covering, Spawn grinned in enjoyment. This thing may still be a bit uncomfortable at times, but the rush he got in battle was something that could never be taken away from him.

"Let's go," he said casually, as he raised his arms, large blades popping out from around his arms as he shifted into a combat stance. Before either of his opponents could retaliate- he certainly wasn't willing to go head-to-head with Clown in demon form when he could end the fight far more easily right now- he had charged forward, slashing at them both with rapid blows that left both of them bleeding profusely from injured arms, even if Clown's 'blood' was a bright turquoise-coloured slime.

Just as Spawn was about to attack again, however, something dived down from above, hitting Spawn with such force that he flew back into the alley with a speed that would have made most bullets seem slow.

As Spawn staggered to his feet, his cloak sweeping around him as though it itself was angry, his eyes fell on his new opponent, and he winced.

This sucker was definitely _not _pleasant to look at…

At first glance, it appeared to be a man of average build, around six feet tall, wearing a long coat that stretched down to its legs and a wide-brimmed hat, with a stained shirt that had one been white and an equally dirty pair of brown trousers underneath the coat. However, closer inspection revealed that it had a face that bore close resemblance to Spawn's own, but with sharper teeth and gleaming red eyes, and long bat-like wings extended from its shoulders. Closer inspection also revealed that its clothes were hanging loosely on its body; it was almost as though the creature was thinner than normal humans, almost as though it was anorexic or something similar.

_Geez, and I thought _I _was ugly_, Spawn reflected, as he stood up to glare at the new foe. _This guy makes me look like Bard fucking Pitt…_

"And you are?" he asked, glaring at the monster critically.

"This is the Creeper, my little Alli!" 'Drusilla' said, grinning over at Spawn; he was rather surprised to note that she was wearing a long blood-red dress with a top that hugged her rather generous curves. How was she expected to fight in _that _thing…?

Then he realised what she'd just called him, and glared angrily in her direction.

"Don't call me 'Alli'," he said, as his armour's chains lashed out in her direction…

Only to be caught by the 'Creeper', who glared at Spawn as he yanked at the chains, sending Spawn flying over the Creeper's form to land roughly on the ground in front of Drusilla. If Spawn had been human, the blow would likely have crushed one of the vertebrae in his neck; as it was, his armour managed to adjust itself so that his cloak bore the brunt of the impact, shielding him from the immediate damage. He was just about to get back to his feet and try again when something suddenly landed on his chest, grinning at him and holding a glowing dagger…

When Spawn looked at it, however, he almost couldn't stop himself from bursting out laughing at the utterly ludicrous nature of the sight.

It was a child's doll, maybe about two feet high at best, dressed in a blue-and-red striped jumper and blue denim dungarees. The doll had red hair and blue eyes, but its face was an absolute mess; it looked like someone had torn the doll to pieces and someone had stitched it back together in a rather inexpert manner. Indeed, if it weren't for the twisted dagger in its hand, the doll would almost have been rather comical, glaring at Spawn as it was.

"Y-you are?" Spawn said, unable to stop himself from chuckling slightly as the doll glared at him.

"They call me Chucky," the doll said, as it glared at Spawn. "And I think you might want _this_."

He drove the dagger into Spawn's chest, and the man once known as Al Simmons screamed in agony; it felt as though he was back in Hell all over again, except that all the pain he'd felt down there was suddenly concentrated in his lower abdomen…

Then something lashed out at the doll, sending it flying back at a rapid rate as the dagger was pulled out of Spawn's gut. Glancing up, Spawn was relieved to see his mentor and friend Cogliostro standing there, the blade that was the only real remainder of his original Hellspawn armour sticking out of his wrist.

"Ah boy… _you_!" Clown yelled, glaring at Cogliostro in frustration. "Can't you stay out of my affairs?"

Cogliostro smiled casually as he shifted into a combat stance.

"That depends on whether your affairs involve my friends," he said, as he stared at Clown and his new allies. "Are you interested in tackling _both _of us?"

Clown studied Cogliostro and the already recovering Spawn briefly (Spawn had torn the dagger out as soon as Chucky had been kicked off, and the armour was already healing his injuries), as though trying to come to a decision, and then shrugged casually as he grabbed the Creeper and Drusilla, Chucky leaping onto Clown's shoulders.

"Sorry; gotta blow!" he said, as a brief burst of fire surrounded him and the others before they vanished.

Sighing, Coglistro turned to look back at Spawn, raising an enquiring eyebrow as he hauled his friend back on to his feet.

"Are you all right?" he asked the man once known as Al Simmons, as Spawn picked up the dagger that Chucky had used on him and stared at it.

"Yeah, I'm good," he replied, before handing the dagger over to Cogliostro for inspection. "Any ideas what this is?"

Taking the blade, Cogliostro studied it for a few moments, before nodding and slipping it into his pocket.

"A Brimstone dagger," he said, as he looked back at Spawn. "An effective means of hurting hellspawn; they are traditionally forged in the fires of hell, much like the hellspawn themselves, which gives them an extra potency against renegades like you and I. The principle is rather similar to the theory of sound waves cancelling each other out; since the two objects have such similar powers, the dagger effectively negates the powers provided to the hellspawn by their armour, making it easy for the Spawn to be injured."

"Ah," Spawn grunted, as he winced and clutched his side briefly, before smiling and straightening up as he looked at his friend. "Anyway, any ideas why Clown was working with those guys?"

Cogliostro nodded. "Unfortunately, yes," he replied, as he and Spawn began to walk further into the alley, away from anyone who might try and listen in on the conversation. "I have heard reports from certain supernatural contacts from the old days that the Malebogia, with the aid of his superiors, has begun to organise a team to strike against the world, consisting of some of the deadliest killers that this world has ever seen."

Spawn couldn't contain a slight chuckle.

"You've gotta be kidding me; a _doll _is one of the worst murderers in history?" he asked, staring incredulously at Cogliostro. "What, did he slaughter the teddy bears' picnic?"

"That _doll_," Cogliostro said, glaring at Spawn critically, "is possessed by the soul of serial killer Charles Lee Ray, the Lakeshore Strangler from the nineteen eighties, and has been responsible for the deaths of several people even _after _he transferred himself into a doll when he was killed in 1988. Trust me, he's dangerous."

Spawn sighed as he glanced down at the fading scar in his armour that was the only indication of Chucky's earlier attack.

"Well," he grunted slightly as he looked at the injury, "if he could do this to me, I suppose I shouldn't underestimate him."

He glanced over at Cogliostro. "Any ideas who else is in the team?"

Cogliostro shook his head. "I have heard rumours, but it is another contact of mine who knows the information that you seek," he explained. "His name is Leo Wyatt; he was formally an army medic in World War Two, but he became a guardian angel- well, that is the closest analogy of what he is- for witches after he died in the battle of Guadalcanal in 1942."

"You know an angel?" Spawn said, staring at Cogliostro in surprise. "I would have thought they'd stay away from guys like us."

"Leo hardly has much choice; he recently became a member of a group that consists primarily of reformed supernatural individuals," Cogliostro explained, as he and Spawn stopped at the end of the alley to continue talking. "In fact, that is part of the reason I was looking for you; Leo has heard about you, and, with this new situation, coupled with your in-depth knowledge of Clown, he might be interested in offering you a place on the team in question."

"Really?" Spawn said, grinning slightly as he glanced back at Cogliostro. He had to admit, the possibility of being in a team to tackle this new problem was tempting, and he certainly wouldn't mind spending time with people who might actually _understand _what this kind of life was like…

But did they really understand?

"What are the other guys like?" he asked his mentor, looking at Cogliostro curiously.

"An intriguing group, really," Cogliostro said, smiling as he looked up at the sky briefly before looking back at Spawn. "Their membership includes three part-vampires, a private detective who also runs an exorcism service, a demon who fights for a special division of the American government, and a former demon God-King who was transferred into the body of a young woman. There is Leo, of course, but he mainly serves as their contact with the higher powers, and takes less of a front-row involvement in their main combat situations."

Spawn nodded thoughtfully as he listened to Cogliostro. He had to admit, the group certainly _sounded _interesting, and it couldn't hurt to have some company…

But he'd still prefer to know more about the situation before he started trusting them.

"What happened to make them reform?" he asked, deciding he might as well cut to the chase and attend to business.

Cogliostro shrugged. "Many things," he explained. "The demon in the American government was found when an infant and raised to be a hero, but there still remains a darkness in his soul that could overwhelm him if given the chance, and he refuses to allow that to happen. Two of the vampires were cursed with their souls back after almost a century of committing atrocious murders due to the demon that controlled them, and now seek atonement for what the body did while they were absent. The third was a half-vampire from the moment of his birth, due to his mother being bitten in the ninth month of her pregnancy, and has constantly fought with his lust for blood ever since it struck during puberty. The God-King at first sought to conquer our world, but, with the aid of the friends of her host, she has come around to the side of good. The exorcist was at first a selfish, narrow-minded individual who only sought to escape Hell after a suicide attempt nearly condemned him there for all eternity, but after he averted an attempt by the Anti-Christ to unleash the apocalypse, he acquired a greater understanding of his role in the world than he had previously possessed."

Spawn smiled slightly as he turned over the information he'd just received. He had to admit, the team certainly _sounded _like they could help him cope with his new role in the world, if nothing else; he was adjusting to being an unofficial warrior for the side of light against the forces of darkness, but he still wouldn't mind some company who could also understand what he was dealing with nowadays…

He smiled over at Cogliostro, his mind made up.

"Still got a few things I wouldn't mind knowing, but I'll ask them that myself," he said, as he nodded his acceptance. "I'm in; where do we go?"


	2. Spawn and the Coven

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the members of the Coven, nor do I own the Coven's allies, or the various members of the Gathering

Feedback: I'd appreciate that, trust me

AN: Bentlar demons originate from the Angel novel 'Endangered Species' by Nancy Holder and Jeff Marriotte; I needed something to give Spawn an action-packed introduction to the Coven, and this was the only thing that I could think of

The Gathering of Supernatural Psychopaths

"DAMNIT!" Hellboy roared, as he punched his way through yet another of the golems that fought alongside the bizarre banana-like demons that seemed to be congregating around the members of the Coven.

Quite frankly, the weeks that had passed since their group had officially come together had been anything _but _quiet. Blade, Leo, Hellboy and Constantine often left to spend time with their allies outside the Coven- and, in Blade and Constantine's case, tackle the latest threat to their dimension that might have tried to take advantage of their absences to strike- and to tackle the latest demonic incursion in their area- always with the understanding that they'd call the Coven if he needed help-, but otherwise the group spent most of their time these days in the pocket dimension headquarters that Gideon had provided for them, working on improving their abilities as a team and dealing with the occasional supernatural 'crisis' that came up. An 'alert orb' that some of their spellcasters had created alerted them in the event of a supernatural-related catastrophe taking place that would require their intervention, although Leo and Hellboy had also been known to provide them with information about something that seemed to be a 'Coven-level' crisis; the orb was mainly a 'last-resort' warning system that was only activated when the situation reached a certain point after which the Coven might not have been able to stop it.

At the moment, the Coven were dealing with reports Leo had received of a Chaos demon attempting to destabilise reality around New York Central Park; always eager for a chance to stretch their legs, the Coven had naturally eagerly accepted the chance to kick some ass.

So far, however, it was all up in the air as far as their attempts to reach the Chaos demon in question were concerned. They'd reached the park easily enough, but the problem now lay in getting through the Bentlar demons, which traditionally congregated around chaos demons as they were the only species that could survive in the destabilisation of reality that was caused by the chaos demons, and the additions of a few golems, who, since they were essentially stones, weren't particularly affected by the fabric of time being slightly destabilised around them.

_It's official; I really, _really _hate golems_… Hellboy mused to himself, as he launched a powerful kick at a nearby Bentlar, nodding in approval as Blade lashed out with his sword and decapitated the demon in question.

Glancing around at the others during the momentary lapse in the fighting, Hellboy was pleased to see that most of them appeared to be coping well with the situation. Angel and Spike were working like a well-oiled machine, ducking the blows of the surrounding demons as they retaliated with strikes of their own; even as Hellboy watched, Angel ducked to allow Spike to make a 360-degree spin with a massive battle-axe that knocked a couple of advancing golems back.

Checking in another direction, he was relieved to see that Illyria and Constantine were holding their own against another group of Bentlars; the two had formed a close friendship in their time on the team, for reasons that nobody could quite work out, and often fought side-by-side in combat situations. Hellboy sometimes teased Spike about being jealous of the close relationship between the blue-skinned former God King and the redeemed exorcist, but Spike always brushed it off; either Hellboy was barking up the wrong tree, or Spike was always rather angry when someone worked out how he felt about something when they'd only met recently.

Hellboy shrugged; either way, it wasn't his business.

Looking over in Leo's direction, Hellboy winced as he saw the Whitelighter trying desperately to fend off a couple of Bentlars with his daggers. The Whitelighter was a very committed fighter when the situation called for it, but his drive to win didn't make up for his general inexperience at one-on-one combat. If one of the others didn't get over there soon, Leo would be in trouble…

And then, as one of the Bentlars got under Leo's defences and hit him in the ribs with the lance it was using, it happened.

"NO!" Hellboy yelled, hoping that one of the other Coven members would reach Leo in time; a golem was advancing on Hellboy that prevented him intervening to help his friend, but if one of the others could throw off their opponents for long enough, they might manage to reach Leo…

Then, to Hellboy's surprise, someone _did _intervene, but it wasn't one of the Coven. As Hellboy watched, a well-built figure in a black costume that looked like some combination of leather and flesh, with large white 'eyes' and a white M on its chest, as well as a long red cloak streaming behind it, charged at the nearest Bentlar demon, lashing out with a massive punch that sent it flying. Even as Hellboy washed, two long chains flew from the figure's chest to strike at the second Bentlar, sending it flying back.

"You OK?" the figure said as it turned to look at Leo; the gruff voice sounded male, which tied in with everything else about the figure's appearance, but Hellboy was prepared to wait and see before he decided anything for certain. As Leo accepted the figure's help to get back onto his feet, Hellboy turned back to the golems and Bentlars that were gathering around him, drew the Samaritan, and began to fire.

_With that new guy helping him, Leo should manage for the moment_, Hellboy decided; after all, if this guy wanted to _fight _the Coven, he probably wouldn't have saved their only contact with the side of good just then (Leo might not be much of a fighter, but the info he could provide them with was _always _useful).

Of course, they'd question him once the chaos demon had been shut down, but for the moment Hellboy was going to go with his gut and trust the sucker…

* * *

"Stay focused!" Angel called out, as the last immediate member of the Bentlar faction of the attack force fell. "Hellboy, Illyria, keep the golems occupied; everyone else, you're with…" He stopped briefly as his eyes fell on the black, red, and white figure standing beside Leo. "Who are _you_?"

"Call me Spawn," the figure said briefly. "I'd like to say I'm just here to help, but the truth is that I'll be needing_ your_ help once this is over."

"Look, whatever the reason is for you being here, let's just get this over with before we start discussing it, OK, mate?" Spike grunted, jerking his thumb towards the ever-increasing vortex around the chaos demon's location. "We've got demon ass to kick; we can worry about anything else later."

"Sure," Spawn said, as he turned to look at the vortex. "The plan is?"

"Stay close to someone, focus on walking straight ahead, and then just kill the thing," Blade put in, his sword clutched in his right hand. "Let's just get this over with before something else shows up."

Nodding, Angel and the others dived into the swirling vortex before them, each of them focusing on their intended objective…

And then they were through, looking at the roaring ten-foot-tall drooling, clawed monster in front of them.

Glancing over at their new 'ally', Angel was pleased to note that Spawn didn't seem that disturbed by the creature; whatever his history was, this guy was evidently used to dealing with some of the bigger guns in the supernatural world. If he was genuinely on their side, he could be a useful ally…

* * *

A few moments later, the Coven was looking around in approval at their fellows as the chaos demon lay on the ground, already rapidly dissolving into various differently coloured piles of slime. Hellboy and Illyria had already disposed of the golems by the time the others rejoined them, leaving the group with only one concern; to find out more about their new 'acquaintance' in the bizarre costume who called himself 'Spawn'.

"So," 'Spawn' said, his head still covered by that bizarre 'mask' that seemed just as leathery/organic as the rest of his costume, "guess I'd better introduce myself?"

Angel nodded. "That _would _be appreciated," he said, as the rest of the Coven joined him in looking at Spawn. The former assassin took the opportunity to take a quick assessment of their attitude towards him, and was pleased to note that it was what he'd expected of a team with their reputation; willing to listen to what he had to say, but ready to fight if need be. Their faces were all neutral, but Spawn had been an expert at reading body language even _before _he died, and it had only become better thanks to his new powers.

Then again, these guys weren't hard to read; even a moron could tell that all seven of the various Reformed Supernaturals before him were tense and ready to attack him if he tried to get in a blow towards them, regardless of the fact that he'd just helped them kill the chaos demon.

Spawn shrugged as he forced his attention back to the matter at hand and looked at the Coven.

"This'll take a while; you got anywhere private that we can go to while we talk?" he asked the vampire.

Glancing over at Leo, Angel nodded at the Whitelighter in acceptance, and all seven of the Coven instantly reached out to grab the wrist of one of the others, Spike and Blade grabbing Spawn's wrists as he looked at them in confusion. Closing his eyes, Leo focused briefly, and then the Coven found themselves once again in the large white room that had been where they had all first come together to battle the evil Cole and his army.

Fortunately for the Coven, it was a lot more interesting now than the basic white it had been at first. With the Coven having decided to become a permanent group, Leo had managed to convince the Elders that they needed an effective 'base', for lack of a better term. The room now not only had several comfortable chairs in it, where the Coven could sit while discussing possible problems that they were currently dealing with, but even came equipped with a library containing every demonology book ever written in a few basic volumes (Much like Wesley had possessed back at Wolfram & Hart), as well as a training room that had access to several weapons that the Coven could use either for training or on the field.

"Whoa…" Spawn muttered to himself, as he glanced around the room before turning his attention back to Angel. "This is your base?"

"The equivalent of it, anyway," Angel said, shrugging casually as the rest of the Coven sat down in some of the available seats to listen to Spawn's tale. Only Angel and Spawn remained standing looking at each other as they talked. "We mainly use this place for planning attack strategies and practicing fighting moves, that kind of thing. Anyway, we're here to talk about _you _right now, remember?"

Spawn nodded. "You're right; I apologise," he said casually, before turning to address the others. "I'll start at the beginning. I started off as Al Simmons, an assassin for a secret branch of the American Secret Service, but I turned against my bosses when I learned that they didn't seem to care about whether anyone else got caught in the crossfire. I tried to get out of the game, but Jason Wynne- my old boss in the group- had me killed and I got sent down to Hell for the murders I'd committed- even the ones I hadn't _wanted _to kill."

"Ouch," Angel said, wincing as he looked sympathetically at Spawn. "Sorry about that; can't have been a picnic."

"It wasn't," Spawn said, shaking his head briefly. "Only remember the first few minutes, but that's more than enough for me."

"So, what happened?" Hellboy asked, indicating Spawn's costume. "How'd you end up with the nifty outfit?"

"Basically, this demon called the Malebogia let me come back to Earth if I agreed to lead his army against Heaven," Spawn explained. "I accepted at first, mainly because I just wanted to see my fiancé Wanda again, but when I got back up to Earth, five years had passed, Wanda had married my friend Terry- she'd even had a daughter with him-, and I looked like something you'd find in an oven."

Blade opened his mouth as though to say something, but stopped when Spawn's head covering suddenly seemed to… retract, for lack of a better term… into the rest of the costume, leaving Spawn with brown skin that almost resembled a charred sausage, the skin stretched tightly around his skull and not a speck of hair on him- not even so much as an eyelash.

"Ouch," Spike said, as he indicated Spawn's face. "Result of your means of death?"

"Yep; got set on fire by my boss shortly before he blew up the chemical weapons factory I was in," Spawn explained, as he looked around at the others; a few of them were slightly surprised at how green his eyes were, but quickly dismissed it to focus on his story. "Anyway, I had a few confrontations with some demon called 'the Violator'- demon form's pretty impressive, but his default human form resembles an overweight clown, so I just generally call him 'Clown'. I tried to kill Wynne a few times at first, but then I learned that Clown was using him to develop a lethal virus, with a detonator wired to Wynne's heart; if Wynne's heart stopped, everyone in the world was dead. Took the detonator out using some of my extras, and then tackled Clown."

He chuckled slightly at the memory. "Was a fairly one-sided fight, really; the guy tried to bite my head off, but I used my chains to decapitate him, and send him crying back to his boss…"

His grin faded and he shrugged as he looked back at the Coven. "Since then I've been hanging out in the alley where I came back into the world, practicing my powers with the aid of Cogliostro-"

"You know Cogliostro?" Leo asked, leaning forward and looking at Cole eagerly. "I haven't heard from him in ages; how's he doing?"

Spawn smiled.

"He's well, Leo; he's actually the guy who recommended I come to see you," he said to the Whitelighter reassuringly.

"Who's Cogliostro?" Constantine asked, looking at Leo and Spawn curiously.

"Former assassin for the kingdom of Saxony in the fifteenth century, who came back to Earth as a Hellspawn but rebelled against his dark masters to fight on our side after forsaking most of his demon-based powers," Leo explained, as he glanced over at the detective. "We met once while one of my charges was trying to vanquish a low-grade demon sent by the Malebolgia, and we got along fairly well; I was never entirely sure about working with demons or similar beings back then, but we still keep in touch now and again."

Looking around at the rest of the Coven, who were now looking at their teammate with various inquiring expressions, Leo smiled at them reassuringly. "Trust me; if Cogliostro trusts this guy, we can trust him."

Angel nodded briefly at his old friend, and then turned back to look at Spawn.

"So, why have you contacted us, if you don't mind my asking?" the vampire asked, looking curiously at the ex-assassin.

Spawn sighed.

"Wish I could say it was a social call, but unfortunately I've got a problem that I need your help with," he said, looking apologetically at the others. "Clown's come back, and he seems to have acquired some back-up; don't know them personally myself, but they're dangerous. Nearly killed me tonight, and would have probably pulled it off if Cogliostro hadn't intervened."

He looked around at the others. "Cogliostro told me that he'd heard rumours about some team being formed; consists of some of the worst serial killers we've got to offer in recent history. I've only encountered four of them- Clown included- but trust me; they're good."

He groaned as he sat back in his chair. "Even the fucking _doll's _a tough nut to crack…"

"Doll?" Hellboy said, looking at Spawn incredulously. "One of them is a _doll_? How tough could a _doll _be?"

"If it's the one I'm thinking of, it's bad," Constantine said, as he looked over at Spawn. "It wouldn't happen to be 'Chucky', would it?"

"Yep," Spawn nodded at Constantine. "You know him?"

"Not personally, but I came close to encountering him once or twice," Constantine replied. "Sensed his presence once or twice and tried to track him down to exorcise him, but it never worked; he always got away at the last minute."

"Uh… hello?" Spike said, waving a hand impatiently. "Guy with no clue what you're talking about over here; care to fill us in?"

"Oh, sorry," Constantine said, looking over apologetically at the vampire. "The doll's possessed by the spirit of Charles Lee Ray, known as 'Chucky' while he's in the doll's body; he was a serial killer who transferred his soul into a doll by mistake after he was shot by a policeman, and he spends most of his time active trying to find a new host."

Spike opened his mouth to say something, but Blade raised a hand in a warning gesture to stop the vampire; he could guess that Spike was about to make some biting comment about the doll, and he doubted Spawn would take it well.

"So," Blade said, deciding he might as well get a word in before anyone else could, "who else is on the team?"

Spawn shrugged. "Caught the names of two of them, but don't know much else about the membership. One's some kind of spindly bat/human thing that's apparently called the Creeper, and the other's some basket-case with superhuman strength and long black hair… calls herself 'Drusilla', I think…"

"_Drusilla_!" Spike and Angel said, sitting up sharply and looking over at each other in concern, before both turned to look resolutely at Spawn.

"We're in," Angel said simply.

"That quickly?" Hellboy said, looking at Angel in confusion. "What's so special about this 'Drusilla' chick?"

"Well, there _is _the fact that she's one of the main living reminders of what we did when we were soulless; would that count for explaining why we don't like her?" Spike asked, glancing over critically at Hellboy.

Hellboy could only nod slightly in agreement, and then the two vampires turned back to look at the rest of the Coven.

"OK, we need to find out the names and powers of the rest of the members of this 'team' Clown mentioned; I somehow doubt that they'd limit it to four people, particularly when one of them's a doll," Angel said, looking around the room at the others as he indicated a seat to Spawn, who gratefully took it. "Anyone have any contacts we could use?"

Constantine raised a hand. "I know a guy who runs a bar for the supernatural," he said, as the rest of the Coven turned to look at him. "He's only interested in staying neutral, but he's given me some information in the past; doesn't regard it as choosing sides. After all, if I didn't ask him I'd probably find it somewhere else; he figures it's easiest to avoid aggravating anyone else by just telling me what I need."

"Sounds good," Angel said, nodding in approval at the detective's suggestion. "Should someone come with you?"

"Yeah; Leo and Illyria would be the best bet," Constantine said, indicating the Whitelighter and ex-God King respectively. "If they're coming along as well, my contact might be more willing to listen to me; I used up an old favour he owed me to stop the rise of the Antichrist, but he should be prepared to at least give me information if he knows I've got some allies."

Angel nodded as he glanced over at the other two enquiringly. "That OK with you?"

Leo nodded, and Illyria just shrugged casually.

"Right then," Constantine said, as he looked over at his two allies. "Let's get going; we've got some information that needs to be found."


	3. Know Thy Enemy

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the members of the Coven, nor do I own the Coven's allies, or the various members of the Gathering

Feedback: I'd appreciate that, trust me

The Gathering of Supernatural Psychopaths

Leo could only be grateful that inter-dimensional travel wasn't as difficult as it normally was up in the pocket dimension that served as the Coven's 'base'; travel to Constantine's home reality was still difficult, true, but at least it wasn't impossible.

Arriving on a street outside a dingy-looking building, Constantine smiled up at the structure in front of him, and then glanced over at Leo.

"Right on target, buddy," he said, nodding in approval.

"Thanks…" Leo said dismissively, as he glanced back at Constantine. "Once and for all, you're _sure _this guy can help us? I mean, we _are _a little out of his usual range…"

Constantine shook his head.

"Nah; he'll have what we need," he assured his friends. "We've been aware of alternate dimensions for years in magic circles; hell, I've even _visited _a few myself once or twice. We keep up-to-date with anything big that may affect our own world, and nobody's better at being accurate with information than Midnite."

Illyria and Leo couldn't argue with that. After all, if this team of Clown's was successful, it would most likely start to spread; from what they'd heard of Clown and his superiors, the guy didn't sound like he'd be prepared to settle for just _one _reality going down…

As the three of them walked down the stairs that led towards the club where Constantine's informant lived and worked, Constantine was explaining the rules of entry to his companions.

"Basic test of psychic abilities," he explained, as they rounded another corner. "The bouncer holds a card up in front of you, facing away, and you have to guess what it is; you don't get it right, you can't get in. Oh, and you can't be sure he's got the same card that he had before even if you haven't seen him change it; he's tricky."

"Seems fair enough," Leo said, nodding in understanding at Constantine. "And you're sure Illyria and I can get in?"

Constantine nodded. "Yeah; you're like most of the others here," he explained as they reached the bouncer. "You can pull off a few basic mind-reading tricks, but it's never enough to count as a major power. Two frogs on a bench," he said to the man in front of them, who nodded, removed the velvet rope, and waved Constantine past him as Illyria took front stage.

"An elephant doing ballet?" Illyria asked, briefly sounding to Leo like a timid teenage girl rather than the former ruler of a demonic kingdom. When the bouncer nodded at her in approval, Illyria smiled slightly in relief as she entered the club, leaving only Leo to get through the card trick. Swallowing nervously, he tried to clear his mind and stared in front of him, looking at the card with a slight degree of apprehension, trying to stop seeing through _his _eyes and start to see through the eyes of the bouncer…

"Um… wait a minute… three ducks standing on a cloud?" Leo asked uncertainly. Flicking the card over, the bouncer revealed that image to Leo before waving him in.

Inside the club, Leo was briefly overawed at the sheer size of the club, filled with far more people at a first glance than the mortal nightclub above it, and yet somehow seeming to be both the same size and larger than the building in question. Each individual was different from the last… a gorgon was drinking with an angel, a man with a long forked tail was sipping wine with what looked like a female Ano-Movic demon, generally a peaceful race to his recollection (Baring their habit of eating the ex's brains when marrying someone who'd been divorced)…

"What _is _this place?" Leo hissed at Constantine, as the three of them walked boldly through the club.

"Neutral ground," Constantine replied, as Illyria glared at an advancing man who looked slightly like a succubus to Leo, prompting him to back off. "Midnite- the owner- set this place up as a means of helping to preserve the balance that exists at the moment for my bunch of demons and angels. Nobody can hurt anybody else here; it's against the rules."

"Impressive…" Illyria muttered to herself, as a tall man who appeared relatively human walked past their little group, his arms around two women whose appearances seemed to be changing slightly even as Illyria watched them. Evidently succubi, she decided; they had that inconsistent appearance that she recognised from a couple of previous meetings.

Jerking his head towards a nearby door, Constantine led Leo and Illyria through the door into an elaborate office, the main feature in it being an elegant wooden desk with various elaborate instruments on it. Behind this desk sat a man in a dark brown coat, a hat in a lighter shade of brown, and a black shirt with some kind of elaborate white-and-red pattern on it that somehow went rather well with the rest of the outfit, even though every law of fashion and sense seemed to insist that it shouldn't. Looking up as the three Coven members entered, the man- who Illyria could only assume was the Papa Midnite that they were there to see- merely raised a critical eyebrow as Constantine walked towards the table, Leo and Illyria standing on either side of him like the old childhood images of angels and demons advising the character.

"John Constantine," Midnite said simply, as he looked at the detective/exorcist standing in front of him, looking at the bar owner with an elaborately casual expression on his face. "And these would be two of the other members of the 'Coven of Reformed Supernaturals' I have heard so much about?"

"Yep; Leo Wyatt, Whitelighter and ex-WW2 medic, and Illyria, former God-King and ruler of the L.A. area," Constantine explained, indicating the relevant people as he looked back at Midnite. "Anyway, since you know about them you can guess why we're here, huh?"

Midnite nodded ruefully as he looked back at his friend. "I can guess," he said simply, as he stared at the exorcist. "You _did _inform them that I am neutral in these matters?"

"It's just information… uh, Mr Midnite," Leo said, uncertain how he should address this man. "Is giving us that _really _violating your neutral stance? I mean, I could understand you not letting John use some of the stuff in your… collection, but surely just giving us information can't be violating your law of neutrality? After all, the items in your collection are, from what we gather… unique, to say the least… but information? We could have found that _anywhere_."

"C'mon, Midnite; just a few bits of info about these guys?" Constantine asked, raising an eyebrow. "Besides, if you think about it, giving us data on these guys would be _keeping _the balance."

"The detective has a point," Illyria added, nodding slightly at Constantine before turning to face Midnite. "After all, the Gathering of Supernatural Psychopaths are all aware of who we are, after our defeat of the would-be ruler of the Underworld in our universe, but we do not know who they are. Would it not help to keep this 'balance' you seek to maintain if we knew just as much about who we are fighting?"

Midnite nodded thoughtfully as he looked at the former demon lord, and then sighed, reached into his desk, and pulled out a file that was in the drawer.

"You're just lucky I collect information on anyone who may have an impact on the Balance," he said, as he passed the folder to Constantine, who took it with a brief smile at his old friend before tucking the file under his coat.

"You're sure nobody'll know it's yours?" he asked, looking at the barman inquiringly.

Midnite shook his head. "The information is generic; anyone could have put it together. I keep spares in my desk, so there is no reason for anyone to suspect that I have given anything away to you and your associates, and I do not doubt that only your fellow Coven members know you are here?"

Constantine nodded.

"Good," Midnite replied, as he indicated the door. "Now, you should go; I do not wish to give anyone the idea that I have given you additional information."

"What information?" Leo asked, smiling brightly as he and the others walked out of Midnite's office, the file hidden under Constantine's jacket as they headed for the stairs.

* * *

A few minutes later, the three members of the Coven were back in their pocket dimension with their friends, the file on a table in front of them as Constantine took a position at the head of the table.

"It ain't a pretty group," he said grimly, as he threw the first sheet of papers, held together by a paperclip and with a photograph of Clown on the front cover. "This Clown guy, we already know the basics about him, and the extras aren't that interesting; he's been a servant of this 'Malebolgia' guy in Spawn's dimension for several hundred years, but after mucking up their attempts to recruit Spawn, the Malebolgia's given Clowny a last chance to redeem himself by leading this 'Gathering' against us."

"Any particular reason why they want _us _dead?" Angel asked, looking at Constantine inquiringly.

The supernatural private eye, however, could only shrug noncommittedly. "Just because we're their opposites, I guess; probably want to take us out before they have to deal with us later on in their mass murder sprees."

Getting back to the matter at hand, Constantine pulled out Drusilla's collection of papers, glanced at it for a few moments, and then shrugged and tossed it onto the pile as well. "Drusilla, Angel and Spike have probably told you about already; she had visions of the future, was driven mad by Angel's vampire self before she was turned, hung around with Spike for a hundred and fifty years before chucking him for a Chaos demon, and now she's back because she apparently wants revenge on Spike and Angel for leaving her."

"Eh?" Hellboy said, looking at Constantine in surprise. "I thought _she _left _Spike_?"

Constantine shrugged. "She's nuts; what did you expect?" he asked dismissively, as he pulled out the papers on Chucky, glanced it over, and shrugged casually as it joined its fellows on the table. "Again, we already know about this guy; serial killer who got his soul stuck in a doll by accident, tried to get it out for a while after that, but just gave up after he got cut to pieces for something like the third time and decided to just kill people as he was. After all, who'd suspect the doll, right?"

"What about that 'Creeper' thing?" Spawn asked, looking anxiously at Constantine. "What have we got on it?"

"Not much," Constantine shrugged as he pulled out the papers in question and placed it on the table as well. "Its origins are unknown; all that we've got is that it spends about twenty-three years asleep at a time, and then wakes up at the end of that cycle for exactly twenty-three days, during which time it finds people and tears out their organs to sustain itself. Seems like the Gathering had to break its cycle to get this thing as a member, but I can't find anything about how they woke the bastard up, so we've got no way of sending it back other than finding some way of killing the bloody thing."

"And that isn't easy, huh?" Blade asked, raising an eyebrow.

Shaking his head, Constantine pulled out another sheet of papers and, after staring at the photograph on the cover for a few moments, put it down on the table with the rest. The photograph showed a tall man dressed in dirty brown clothes and a dirty, battered hockey mask, carrying a long, bloodstained machete in one hand.

"Jason Voorhees, the Crystal Lake Slasher," Constantine explained, as the Coven looked at the photograph as Constantine spoke. "Born with severe facial disfigurement and a mental disability, he was constantly teased as a kid until he nearly drowned while staying at Camp Crystal Lake when he was ten. His mother- the only person who ever treated him as a _person­­_- went mad and killed a whole bunch of people for revenge before she was decapitated, but Jason- who'd apparently been hiding in the woods since he dragged himself out of the lake- saw it happen. Jason returned to the world, stole those clothes and the mask in the picture, and began murdering people right, left and centre. Some guys have stopped him in the past by drowning him or stabbing him or something like that, but he always seems to come back; his ability to recover from injuries is incredible, even if nobody can identify how it happens."

"Yikes," Hellboy muttered to himself, as he stared at the photo. "_This _fight won't be pretty…"

"You think _he's _ugly?" Constantine asked, as he pulled out another bunch of papers. "Try this guy; Freddy Krueger, the Springwood Slasher."

Looking at the photo on top of the papers, the majority of the Coven- Spawn in particular- winced at the sight of the man's burned skin. The fact that his clothes- a red-and-green striped pullover, brown trousers, a wide-brimmed brown hat, and a strange brown leather glove with massive 'claws'- were totally unharmed only added to the disturbing nature of his appearance.

"What happened to _him_?" Spike asked, as he glanced up at Constantine.

"Got thrown into a massive fire after he was revealed to be a child-killer who'd been tormenting the town of Springwood for the past few years," Constantine explained. "He was caught, but got out of it on a technicality at his trial, and the parents of his victims had him burned alive. However, after death, Freddy was contacted by three 'Dream Demons', who gave him the power to hunt and kill children in their dreams. People have always been able to figure out some way to stop his latest murder sprees, but he keeps on coming back anyway. According to Midnite's info, it sounds like this time round Freddy's been given a physical form in the real world to fight us, but he can still influence dreams; they just seemed to figure we wouldn't be sleeping that much for this crisis."

"With him on their team, _that's _certainly true," Leo said, indicating Freddy's file before turning back to Constantine. "Who else is there?"

"Well, there's this guy, but he's basically just a henchman; can't think for himself, but he's bloody hard to stop," the exorcist explained, as he tossed another collection of papers onto the table; this one showed a guy in clothing from around the eighteenth century, riding a horse, carrying a sword, and lacking a head. "The Hessian Horseman of Sleepy Hollow; favoured decapitating his opponents even _before _it happened to him, but a curse put on him by a witch allows anyone to control him for their own purposes if they hold his head. Normally, his controllers just have him decapitate people, but the Gathering might try something else; we'll have to wait and see."

"Ah," Angel said, sighing slightly as he looked at the picture. "Well, we'll have to bear that in mind when considering our battle strategy." He looked up at Constantine. "Anyone else?"

"Just one," Constantine replied, as he pulled out a last group of papers from the file and put them in the middle of the table. The Coven instantly noticed that the photograph in this case was a rather unusual one; while the dominating figure in the photograph appeared to be a large spider, there were also several orange deadlight-like things behind it, and the figure of a clown was also visible in the picture.

"Eh?" Spike asked, looking at Constantine in confusion. "What's with the photo?"

"The subject's a shapeshifter; those things in the photo are is three most constant forms," Constantine explained, as he looked around at the others. "It apparently came from somewhere outside the universe millions of years ago, settled down in the part of the world that would become the town of Derry in Maine, and waited there for ages until people came. It spent the next few centuries after people arrived hunting them in twenty-eight year cycles, each time starting and ending with a mass outbreak of violence, and normally targeted kids by transforming into something that provoked fear. It was tackled twice by a group of kids- well, they were kids the first time; the second time they were adults- in 1958 and 1985, but they only managed to severely wound it; the thing's eggs were destroyed, but it seems to have somehow come back to fight with the Gathering."

"Ah," Blade said, nodding ruefully as he studied the picture. "That's not good."

"So, what's our next move?" Leo asked, glancing over curiously at Angel.

"Basic stuff, really," Angel said, leaning forward to look at the others. "We need to go out there and try and attract the attention of the Gathering; if we split up, try and seem separate, they may become overconfident and attack us while we're 'off-guard'. Spawn, do your powers include teleportation?"

"To a basic degree," Spawn replied, shrugging as he looked back at Angel. "Haven't used it much- only even learned I _had _it recently-, so I'm not exactly perfect, but I should be able to take a couple of people around with me. Why do you ask?"

"Part of the idea," Angel explained, as he looked between Spawn and Leo. "If either of us are in trouble, I know we can call Leo to orb us out, but I'd like to know we have someone else available if needed."

Spawn shrugged. "I'll see what I can do," he said casually. "Just don't expect it to be a perfect rescue; I'm still working on how to sense people."

"An attempt is all we ask," Angel replied reassuringly, as he looked around at Leo. "You-" he began, then stopped as Leo cocked his head as though he'd just heard something. "What?"

"One of my charges," Leo said, looking at Angel with dawning fear. "They're under attack, and whatever it is, it's got a human soul but is only two feet high."

Spike smiled as he heard that, and, standing up, he looked at Leo inquiringly.

"Well, shall we be off?" he asked casually. "I'd rather like to meet this doll bugger."

"I'll come with you," Constantine said, stepping forward to look at Leo and Spike. "If this is Chucky, you'll need me to ensure he's put down for good; if I don't banish his soul, the Gathering could just piece him back together and we'd have the same problem all over again."

Angel nodded in approval.

"Agreed," he said, as he looked around at the rest of the Coven. "We'll put our plan to just go out and attract attention on hold; there's no point doing it if we're not all there. Take Chucky out as fast as possible and then get back here, OK?"

Spike chuckled slightly as Leo grabbed one of his arms, while simultaneously grabbing one of Constantine's.

"No offence, Peaches, but it's only a doll," he said, as Leo began to orb the three of them away. "How hard…"

* * *

AN: Well, there you have it; the eight members of the Gathering of Supernatural Psychopaths. If you have any other suggestions for membership, they would be appreciated, but I should state in advance that I'm looking for two key details in potential members; the ability to take a stupid amount of damage before they even _begin _to think about falling down, and a desire to kill people without any real reason for doing so 


	4. The Death of Charles Lee Ray

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the members of the Coven, nor do I own the Coven's allies, or the various members of the Gathering

Feedback: I'd appreciate that, trust me

The Gathering of Supernatural Psychopaths

"…can it be?" Spike finished, as they reappeared at wherever Leo's charge was at the present…

And Spike's jaw dropped in horror at the sight before them.

There were standing in front of an apartment building, apparently around ten stories high, in a rather comfortable-looking district in what Spike assumed was around the outskirts of San Francisco; it certainly looked like what he'd seen of the city in the past. The only major problem with the apartment was the upper five or six levels were in flames, evidently destroying anyone or anything inside them, and, judging from Leo's horrified expression, that included his charge.

"No…" he said, as he stared at the building in horror. "No… no… _no_!"

"Oh yeah, suckers," a voice said from…

_Below _them!

Even as Spike looked down, however, he was too late; as he, Constantine and Leo turned their gaze downwards, it was only in time to see a two-foot-tall doll, with red hair and scars all over its face as though it had been stitched together at some point in the past, wearing a blue-and-red striped jumper and blue dungarees, stick a knife directly into the back of Spike's leg.

"AARRGGHH!" Spike yelled, collapsing to the ground, clutching his leg in agony, as the doll stepped back, leaving the knife where it was, and turned to face Leo and Constantine.

"Ah, the screwed-up angel and the bleeding-heart exorcist," the doll said, glaring at them with an expression of such arrogance that it was almost stupid. "I was expecting a bit more after taking out the bitch- no, witch," he corrected himself, chuckling slightly. "God, she had _great _cleavage…"

Sighing, Constantine reached behind his back, slung the strap holding the Holy Shotgun in place off his shoulder, and aimed it at Chucky's head.

"You want cleavage?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as he stared at the homicidal doll. "You don't shut up now, the only cleavage you'll be seeing will belong to soldier demons- and trust me, those guys are pretty poor lovers."

"Go screw a dog, bastard," Chucky grunted as he stared at Constantine.

Constantine didn't even bother to make a retort; he just squeezed the trigger of the Holy Shotgun, his intention to blow the smug satisfaction from the doll's face all too apparent…

And then, no sooner had the Shotgun fired than he found himself on the ground, clutching a bleeding leg as Chucky, now holding a pistol in his other hand, leapt towards Leo and slashed at the Whitelighter's leg with yet another knife, before spinning around to point the gun at the Whitelighter's head (Leo had collapsed to the ground after he had sustained his injury).

"Nice try, angel-boy," Chucky said, grinning inanely as he cocked the pistol. "But tell me, do your healing abilities include the ability to regrow your-"

Then, without any warning, the doll found itself grabbed by its dungarees and hauled into the air, before being pinned to the wall by his throat as the former serial killer found himself staring at an extremely annoyed vampire, blood staining the hand that held Chucky as he glared at his foe.

"I liked these pants," he growled at the doll, before glancing at the sleeve of the arm that held Chucky up. "And the coat, come to that. Trust me, blood is _hell _to clean out of leather!"

* * *

Meanwhile, back in the Coven's pocket dimension, Spawn and Angel- the vampire having shed his leather duster and shirt, currently just wearing his vest- were currently circling each other in the fighting ring as the other Coven members watched. The Coven had decided that it made no sense to have Spawn join them on a long-term basis without having a better idea what he was capable of, and so Angel, as the most experienced member of the team, had volunteered to give Spawn a practice fight to see how he handled himself.

So far, neither of them had dealt the first blow in the fight, but each of the members of the Coven knew that their leader and new colleague were merely biding their time for the opportune moment to strike; after all, they were both experienced at fighting one-on-one, so they naturally had a lot of experience to draw on when fighting with a single opponent.

Eventually, the moment came; Angel lunged towards Spawn at the same moment as Spawn lashed out with one of the chains that seemed to be part of his armour. The chain grazed Angel's cheek as he jumped, but it failed to have any significant effect on the vampire's progress, as Angel continued to leap through the air before he hit Spawn, sending the man once known as Al Simmons down to the ground with suck force that the floor actually cracked.

To Spawn's credit, he didn't appear to notice the blow; he just shook his head slightly before looking back at Angel and lashing out with a punch that knocked the vampire off him, sending the leader of the Coven flying back; even as Angel spun around in mid-air to land on his feet, Spawn was up and facing the former Scourge of Europe, blades popping out of his wrists as he lunched at the vampire.

As the blades lashed along Angel's chest, cutting through his vest and drawing a faint line of blood, the vampire grabbed Spawn's arm and threw the ex-assassin off to one side, following it up with a spinning kick aimed at Spawn's head…

That, much to the surprise of everyone watching, was caught by Spawn's _cloak_, the voluminous folds of 'cloth' sending Angel flying once again, even as their host leapt up onto his feet and kicked out again at the vampire. Spawn's raw strength was evidently not quite on the same level as most vampires- Angel barely staggered at the blow- but the fact that he could pull that off was still impressive; even _Blade _had found it difficult to land a blow like that on Angel this early on in the fight. True, Hellboy had pulled it off, but the others knew that the demon had mainly done that due to his larger bulk rather than by dint of him being the better fighter.

As Angel staggered slightly from the surprise of the blow, Spawn leapt forward to lash out at the vampire again, but this time Angel was more prepared; not only did he dodge Spawn's blades, he actually ducked _forward_, allowing Spawn's blades to go over his back before bringing his head up in a surprise attack that sent the assassin staggering backwards, clutching his mouth as blood leaked from his lips (True, the injuries were already healing thanks to Spawn's suit, but the attack was still powerful enough to daze the one-time general of Hell's army).

Taking advantage of his foe's momentary disorientation, Angel lashed out with another punch, but, apparently acting on instinct despite Spawn's current pain, the cloak whirled around its owner and formed a kind of shield, leaving Angel with bruised knuckles as Spawn, now sufficiently healed, fired a burst of green energy from his wrist to strike Angel right in the stomach, knocking the vampire back as Spawn's chains lunged forward to pin him to the ground by his arms. Before Angel could even begin to struggle, Spawn had joined the chains, and was crouching beside the vampire with a long, sharp blade pinned to his opponent's throat.

The two stared at each other for a few seconds, and then Angel smiled.

"Nice job," he said, nodding in approval as Spawn stood up, his mask sliding off his head and the blades retracting before he offered Angel a hand to haul the vampire back on to his feet. "You're pretty good."

"I've had a lot of practice at fighting even _before _I got the suit," Spawn said, shrugging dismissively. "Extra powers took some time getting used to, but trust me; you get used to it."

"Well, think it's safe to say you've got a place with us," Blade said, his head inclining slightly in approval of their new member. The rest of the Coven looked at Blade with a slight glint of surprise in their eyes, but didn't say anything; Blade rarely showed signs of approval, no matter how small, to _anybody_. True, he respected all of the Coven's members as allies, but he'd known them for a few weeks now; even giving Spawn a _nod _after a couple of hours was high praise from the normally silent vampire hunter.

Hellboy was just about to say something to Spawn when, for some bizarre reason, a loud knocking sound resounded through their pocket dimension as a medium-sized door appeared in one corner (Admittedly, the room didn't _have _'corners' as such, being nearly infinitely big, but it still gave the appearance of edges to stop its inhabitants going insane from sheer confusion).

"What the…?" Angel said, as he turned to look at the newly arrived 'door' in confusion, before he turned to look at the other Coven members. "Any ideas how that happened?"

"Nope," Hellboy said, shaking his head apologetically as the other members of the Coven made similar sounds in the negative.

After staring at the door impatiently for a few moments, Blade sighed and drew his sword.

"Well, shall we open up and say hello?" he asked, jerking his head towards the door in question. He was about to move towards the door in question, but Hellboy stuck out his stone arm and stopped the hybrid's advance.

"Nope; _I'll _do it," the demonic government agent said, looking critically at the vampire. "If there's something hostile out there, I'm the best equipped to hold it off long enough for the rest of you to get into a defensive position."

The rest of the Coven could only nod in agreement; after all, Hellboy _was _the most powerful member of the team in terms of bulk and physical strength. His face a mask of grim resolution, Hellboy walked up to the door, opened it…

And suddenly the red-skinned demon was flat on his back, at least two metres away from the door, clutching his jaw in pain as he stared incredulously at the door. As the rest of the Coven watched, three figures walked out of the door, glaring around the room as though they'd walked into a sewer.

The Coven instantly recognized the first two figures as Clown/Violator and Freddy Krueger- the white-and-blue make-up on the face of the first and the green-and-red jumper and clawed hand of the second gave away their identities- but the third figure, much to their surprise, was something they didn't know about it.

This figure was dressed in a leather-like outfit in a predominately black colour, baring some patches of dark red around the chest. Its most distinctive feature, however, was its hairless head, etched out in a grid of incisions with large pins sticking out of the intersections like some bizarre pincushion. Despite the relatively simple appearance of the new arrivals in terms of bulk- Freddy and the pin-headed new arrival seemed to have no more muscle than the average man on the street, and Clown's body mass struck them as being predominately fat- all three of them gave off an impression of being extremely dangerous (Although that could have been due to one of them having been able to floor Hellboy with a single kick, to say nothing of their ability to exist outside the pocket dimension that currently contained the Coven).

Tilting his hat to them with his non-clawed hand, Freddy smiled politely at the Coven as Clown gave them a mocking thumbs-up.

"Evening, you do-good idiots," he said, chuckling slightly. "Thought we'd just drop in and introduce you to one of the new homicidal maniacs who're fighting with us; this guy here's Pinhead, and he's the leader of a bunch called the Cenobites who are interested in expanding their experiences in torture and pain to a few other realities."

Shrugging nonchalantly, he raised the claws and clicked them together experimentally. "Anyway, enough talk; let's get down to business."

"Trust me, asshole; the only thing 'going down' right now, Krueger, is you," Blade growled, his sword clasped and raised as he faced the serial killer. People may not have credited Blade with much emotion, given how rarely he expressed himself beyond his habit of beating the crap out of anyone he didn't like, but the Coven knew him well enough to know that people picking on people who couldn't fight back effectively were one of the things he hated most. Many of the Coven assumed that this was part of the reason why he hated vampires so much; after all, their superior physical strength made it hard for _anyone _to stand against them.

A child-killer like Krueger… Someone who targetted the most defenceless human beings in existence for no reason other than that he felt like it…

The Coven decided, then and there, to let Blade handle that guy this time around; knowing the hybrid's skills with a sword, the Springwood Slasher was unlikely to make it out of that fight without any injuries…

As soon as the first blows were launched, the room automatically expanded to protect the Coven's furniture and equipment as the two sides clashed. Illyria and Blade found themselves facing Freddy, Spawn and Hellboy clashed with Clown (Now able to give them a real challenge after transforming into his Violator form), leaving Angel to slug it out with Pinhead on his own.

The conflict between the Coven of Reformed Supernaturals and the Gathering of Supernatural Psychopaths had begun.

* * *

Before Chucky could come up with any kind of reply to the vampire's statement, Spike had grabbed the knife out of the doll's hand, spun it around so that the blade was now pointing at its former owner, and had driven the dagger straight through the doll's little chest; if Chucky had been human, his heart would have been pierced.

"GAGH!" the doll screamed, as it stared at Spike angrily, pounding and kicking at Spike's arm in a manner that was almost comical. If it hadn't been for the massive knife in his chest, Chucky would almost have resembled a baby that was wailing for its dummy to be given back to it.

"You think that hurts?" Spike grinned, releasing his grip on the knife as he stared angrily at the doll. "Trust me; you ain't seen nothing yet."

He glanced over at his fallen friends, and was relieved to see that Constantine and Leo were both standing; indeed, Leo was currently engaged in healing Constantine's leg from Chucky's earlier bullet, and the exorcist was currently looking at Chucky with a wicked grin on his face.

"Ready, Johnny?" Spike asked the detective, earning him a brief glare.

"Don't call me that," Constantine muttered at Spike as he walked up towards the doll.

Despite his slight anger at the vampire for the stupid nickname, the exorcist was all professionalism as he pulled out a crucifix and glared at Chucky, already mentally preparing himself for the ritual that he would now perform. Too far away to do anything to hurt Constantine, and with his weapons both having been stolen, the doll was only able to glare back as Constantine began to speak the words that would render Chucky unable to inhabit the doll's body he now possessed any longer.

* * *

AN: The subsequent exorcism ritual comes from the novelization of _Constantine_, just in case anyone wants to know

* * *

"_Impositionem manum nostrarum et per invoctionem gloriosae et sanctae dei genetricis virginis Mariae_…" he said, the cross in his hands glowing with a brilliant blue light as Chucky thrashed and desperately tried to grab at the knife in his chest.

"_You can't do this to me_!" Chucky yelled angrily at Constantine, finally grabbing the knife in his chest (However, he still couldn't pull it out; his arms were too short to get a good grip on the weapon that he had attempted to use on his current attackers). "_I'm a human; I'm not a fucking **demon**, you fucking TWAT! THIS WON'T WORK ON ME_!"

"_In nominee Patris et Fili et Spiritus Sancti extinguatur in te ominus virtus diaboli_," Constantine continued, ignoring Chucky's 'pleas' for mercy. He knew as well as the doll did that there wasn't much chance that an exorcism designed to expel demons from human bodies would work in this case, but it was all he had available to him at the moment. Besides, the basic principle of the exorcism was to separate a soul from a body that God had not intended it to inhabit, so, given that Chucky was a human soul in the body of a child's toy, the general purpose of the exorcism was still the same.

"_In nominee Patris et Fili et Spiritus Sancti extinguatur in te ominus virtus diaboli_," Constantine repeated, glaring angrily at Chucky as the doll continued to scream obscenities at him. "_In nominee Patris et Fili et Spiritus Sancti extinguatur in te ominus virtus diaboli_! _IN NOMINEE PATRIS ET FILI ET SPIRITUS SANCTI EXTINGUATUR IN TE OMINUS VIRTUS DIABOLI_!"

"NNNOOOOooooo…." Chucky screamed weakly, as a blue light burst from the cross and surrounded his body. He let out a weak, strangled squeal, sounding briefly like the child he so resembled, and then a brief flash of red burst from his body, flaring up in the air before it dived downwards, leaving the three Coven members staring blankly after it.

"Well," Spike said, breaking the silence as he looked around at his friends, "that's one down."

The sound of footfalls behind them prompted the three Coven members to turn around, and they instantly wished that they hadn't.

Standing behind them, weapons drawn as they faced the vampire, the Whitelighter and the exorcist, were three figures, standing in a straight line as they faced the three Coven members, each one almost oozing death and malice as you studied them more carefully.

The figure in the middle of the trinity, wearing a tattered brown jacket and a weather-damaged hockey mask with a large machete in its right hand, was clearly Jason Voorhees, while the lethal-looking double-edged sword, coupled with its lack of a head, of the figure on Jason's right, marked it out as the Hessian Horseman of Sleepy Hollow.

The third figure, unfortunately, wasn't one they recognised from Constantine's earlier briefing; it was dressed in a long brown coat and wearing some kind of outfit that looked like it was made of skintight black leather, covering even the thing's head (Two large glass circles were where its eyes would be if it were human). The tips of two long silver blades could be seen peeking out from under the sleeves of the thing's coat, but otherwise it appeared unarmed.

Of course, in the right hands, even those two blades could be more than enough to do some damage.

_Great… _Constantine thought to himself. _The bastards went and got themselves some backup_.

As soon as they'd dealt with these suckers, he was going to have to see about contacting Midnite and ask why he hadn't given them files on the other suckers as well…

Then the new arrivals lunged at the members of the Coven, and, as Constantine ducked a swing from Jason's machete, he mentally reevaluated his priorities to just survive the next few minutes long enough for Leo to orb him and Spike to safety, _then _worry about criticising Midnite for giving them inaccurate information.

* * *

AN 2: In regard to suggestions for new members of the Gathering, as you have seen, Pinhead and Kroenon will now be fighting with the Gathering, but Michael Myers and the Candyman will not be joining their fellow killers, albeit for different reasons. The Candyman is not included because, from what I read of him, he mainly went mad after the death of his love and the loss of his right hand, so he is more of a _tragic _psychopath, a la Jason Voorhees (Voorhees being motivated by factors I'll expand on later), and I would rather Jason remains unique, as that plays a pivotal part later on in the story. Michael Myers, on the other hand, is too focused; since he mainly kills his family members, I cannot think of any way that he could be… 'persuaded' to shift his focus to the Coven 


	5. Round One: Return of an Old Friend

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the members of the Coven, nor do I own the Coven's allies, or the various members of the Gathering

Feedback: I'd appreciate that, trust me

The Gathering of Supernatural Psychopaths

In a distant room, in a building that would have violated numerous health and safety regulations if any of the people who lived in it had actually been _alive_, a man slumped on the floor, bound to the wall by heavy chains attached to his wrists and ankles, dressed in a British Army uniform of the First World War era, staring listlessly down at the ground before him. His head had prominent ears and close-cropped hair, the hairline receding around the top of the head to create a prominent brow. He looked in fairly good shape- the only signs of injuries were a few flecks of blood around his arms and chest- but, despite this, the man had an expression on his face that looked as though he had been horrifically mutilated.

"Are you well, my little Ellie?" Drusilla said from off to one side. She was sitting in a chair near the door of the room, dressed in a thin white dress that seemed to be held up only by two thin straps around her shoulders. "Do you want some cakes? I would offer more, but Pinny doesn't want you to be too comfortable."

The man didn't answer; he just glared up at Drusilla.

"You know…" he growled, sounding like he wished he could just get up and strangle the vampiress, "the first chance he gets… 'Pinny' would be perfectly willing… to kill you all… in the name of 'research'…"

Drusilla just laughed at that.

"Oh, we can handle him," she chuckled, indicating a small gold box that lay on a table some distance between the two figures. "After all, he must return once the naughty box is beaten at its own game; we can solve it just as easily as we did before."

As he stared in contempt at his captor, Captain Elliot Spencer, the former human host of the Cenobite known to all as Pinhead, could only think of one thing; how to stop his other self, before the whole world paid the price of the existence of a Pinhead without Spencer to give him even the slightest trace of morality.

_If only there was someone out there who could help me…_ Spencer thought desperately to himself.

But there wasn't.

He was on his own.

He was just grateful that some of Pinhead's new 'friends'- if they could be called that; his alter ego never really bothered with personal relationships- had left for the moment; it gave him some peace, at least. Drusilla may be mad, but she was infinitely preferable to that 'Clown' thing that had separated him from Pinhead in the first place, to say nothing of that repulsive 'Krueger' character. She may have been nuts, but at least she wasn't constantly threatening to torture him; he got enough of _that _from the aspect of Pinhead he kept under wraps, thank you very much…

* * *

As the large demon that had been an overweight, ugly clown only a few moments before lunged towards him, its fangs bared and claws outstretched, Hellboy only had time for one thought to flying through his mind.

_Aw crap_.

_This _guy evidently wasn't going to go down easily…

Then the creature's fist struck his face with a strength that, given the lack of muscle on the arm that threw it, was so unexpected that it took Hellboy completely by surprise. As he staggered back a few feet, trying to organise his thoughts and prepare some kind of counterattack, the creature roaring triumphantly as it seemed to prepare itself for another attack, Hellboy growled low in his throat.

He really, _really _hated getting hit…

"Hey!" Hellboy heard Spawn yell from off to one side. "You want a fight, you overweight bastard?"

As Hellboy watched, blinking his eyes rapidly to try and dispel the fog that was starting to overwhelm his mind, the black-and-white figure of Spawn leapt onto the Violator's back, both arms now so covered in blades that Wolverine of the X-Men would seem like he only held a few toothpicks between his knuckles if he'd been called in to compare weapons with the former assassin.

"How about a rematch?" Spawn growled, leaning over to speak into what presumably passed for this thing's ear, before plunging his weapon deep into the Violator's neck. The blades released bright turquoise sparks (Presumably whatever this sucker had instead of blood) as the demon screamed in rage, clawing and scratching at the adversary perched on its neck, only to be 'interrupted' by a rapid punch to the face from Hellboy's right Hand of Doom.

As his opponent staggered back, his face briefly having been forced inwards by the sheer force of Hellboy's punch, the demon officially known as Amung-un-Rama chuckled.

_Payback time, asshole_… he chuckled, as he raised his gun and fired it at the Violater's head, grinning proudly as the holy bullets struck the creature's face.

He always _loved_ the ass-kicking part of the job.

* * *

After a few moments of inactivity, during which the only thing that even seemed to be happening was the two respective opponents sizing each other up in preparation for the now-inevitable fight (Although Constantine did take the opportunity to slip a gild knuckleduster over one hand), Spike finally snapped from impatience.

"GO!" he yelled at the other two, as he lunged forward to collide with the new arrival in the leather suit with the swords tucked up his sleeves. Constantine found himself struggling with Jason Voorhees, while Leo was forced to duck under a surprising well-aimed blow from the sword of the Headless Horseman of Sleepy Hollow.

As soon as he'd lashed out at his opponent, Spike quickly realised that he was in trouble; not only could he only hear the sound of clockwork motors rather than an actual heartbeat, even at this close range- a fact that caused him no small amount of worry-, but he also had the added problem of possessing reflexes so sharp that they made Spike look like Professor Stephen Hawking.

No sooner had the vampire stepped back to assess the impact his immediate attack had made on his opponent, then the man had shrugged off his long brown jacket (How the man avoiding roasting to death in all that leather puzzled Spike no end), drawn his swords, and lashed out at Spike, spinning the long silver blades in both hands at such a speed that Spike wouldn't have been surprised to see the bastard start to fly like a bleedin' helicopter; he'd never seen _anyone _move that fast, and he'd seen quite a bit in his time.

Quickly ducking underneath the blades and rolling off to one side, Spike crossed his fingers and prayed as he lashed out with a spinning kick, cursing as his would-be murdered jumped at just the right moment to escape the blow. Before the man could turn to face Spike and strike once again, the vampire had rolled back to escape the immediate attack from his bladed adversary. Following that, Spike jumped into the air to lash out with a second rapid kick to his foe's face that sent the man staggering back, clutching the cracked glass in his 'lenses'.

_Well, at least that's _something, Spike thought to himself, as he glared at the bladed man in question.

Now all he needed to do was put this guy down for good; it was beginning to look increasingly like just punching him a lot wouldn't do the trick…

* * *

Lunging towards Krueger, sword drawn, Blade was only slightly disappointed that his blade failed to intersect with its intended target of Krueger's neck. The bastard was evidently too nimble to be caught that easily, but Blade had partly expected that their foes would be remarkably efficient in a fight.

In that regard, he wasn't disappointed; Krueger easily ducked under the sweep of the hybrid's sword- briefly shifting into a position that impressed even Blade- before swinging his right hand, bladed glove and all, around to slash at Blade's back…

Only to have his wrist grabbed by Illyria, who threw him over her head to hit the ground face first, followed by a rapid strike to his chest that sent Krueger flying back a few feet.

_Perfect_, Blade thought to himself, as he raised his sword once again and began to walk towards Krueger, his foe dazedly getting to his feet as Illyria stepped back slightly to allow the hybrid the next shot.

As far as Blade was concerned, this asshole was going to _pay _for everything he'd done in his stinking excuse of an existence, whether alive or dead…

Many people didn't credit Blade with feeling much emotion for innocents; they assumed he simply saved them to get back at the vampires. After all, aside from Whistler and the members of the Coven, Blade rarely took the time to talk to people outside of 'work'. Even most of the people he saved from vampires rarely received much thought after he'd rescued them; it was only on a few very rare occasions that Blade even knew the _names_ of some of the people he'd helped. As a result, many people assumed he only fought vampires to get revenge on them for what they had done to him, rather than for any more noble reason such as saving innocents.

But they were wrong.

Blade never expressed it, but every time he failed to save a vampire's victim, even if he subsequently killed the vampire who'd done it, he hated it. He knew that, every time a vampire claimed a life, somewhere in the world, someone was most likely going through the same thing he had when he learned about his mother's death; sad at their loss, outraged at the world for doing something like that to them, and wishing more than anything that the person was still there…

Even though he had little to no understanding of them- even when he'd _been _a child he'd never really belonged- children were the people Blade had silently promised himself he would protect the most.

No child should have to see something as terrible as some of the things the Daywalker encountered on an almost daily basis.

And Freddy Krueger had murdered countless numbers of them… just because he _felt_ like it.

People like that made Blade sick. Vampires may be ruthless, but at least they had a _reason _for killing people, no matter how fragile an excuse that was…

As the Springwood Slasher turned to glare at Blade, the hybrid didn't even give his foe time to say something; he lashed out with his sword again, and, as Krueger began to duck under the weapon, Blade launched a powerful kick towards Freddy's chin. Much to his regret, the sword still didn't do anything to seriously hurt Krueger- the 'Dream Demon' was still too agile to be caught off-guard like that- but Blade did notice a small fleck of red blood on the tip of Krueger's nose that seemed to annoy his opponent.

"You motherfucking _asshole_!" Krueger roared, as he clutched his bleeding nose in one hand; Blade briefly wondered if he'd damaged the bone as well as the flesh with that attack.

"That insult does not apply," Illyria put in, glaring at Krueger from Blade's right; the Daywalker noticed, with no small satisfaction, that Illyria was flexing her fingers in a manner that did _not _bode well for the serial killer.

"What?" Krueger said, staring incredulously at the ex-God King.

"The Daywalker is _not _a 'motherfucker'; his mother 'died' when he was born," Illyria stated coldly as she stared at Krueger, already looking like she'd be perfectly happy to tear Kureger's stomach apart and she hadn't even touched him yet. "If you must insult us, you should at least do us the common courtesy of attempting to know something about those who shall destroy you."

Krueger chuckled slightly at that comment, causing Blade to tighten his grip on his sword; he was prepared to let Illyria take the next shot, but if this guy didn't get a life and stop sounding like such a prick, he'd just screw that and try to decapitate the freak once more…

"_You _destroy _me_?" he asked, looking incredulously at Illyria. "What makes you think-"

Fortunately for Krueger, Illyria got to him first; all _she _did to the self-proclaimed Dream Demon was hit him in the throat with a karate-chop move that seemed to immobilise his vocal chords, _finally _making that git shut up.

Of course, if _Blade_ had reached the man first, he would have done the same thing; the only difference between his method and Illyria's was that the weapon he used would have been significantly… sharper.

As Freddy gagged slightly, clutching his wounded throat, Illyria glared angrily at him.

"Shut up," she informed the child-killer coldly.

Then, as Krueger stared at Illyria through wide eyes, she and Blade launched simultaneous punches at Krueger's face, sending him flying backwards once more, a strangled scream on his temporarily silent lips.

They could only hope that the dual blow would be enough to put him down for the moment; they doubted they could stop a foe who existed on a dream plane of reality in the _real_ world. Even if he _did_ have a body at the present, it was possible that he'd just be transported back to the dream world once the body ceased to be habitable…

Then Krueger leapt back up, shoved Illyria aside, grabbed Blade by the throat with his right hand, and forced him to the ground. As Blade gasped slightly around the pain in his throat- Krueger had a remarkably strong grip- he vaguely registered the other hand reaching towards him, claws bared and aiming for his eyes…

* * *

As Constantine charged towards Jason Voorhees, he was already making his decision about what to do in the fight; he wouldn't have a chance against Jason so long as his opponent was armed, so he had to get the machete out of his opponent's hand and turn the tables on him before anything else could happen…

Then the machete lunged towards Constantine's shoulder, and he instantly revised his plan; diving sharply to one side, as the machete hurtled past him, Constantine lashed out with a rapid punch to Jason's wrist, causing the unstoppable killer to lose his grip on his weapon. Grateful that he'd pulled on his knuckleduster- he doubted that just his fist would make as much of an impact on Jason- Constantine lunged forward, grabbed the machete where it lay on the ground, and swung it around to hit Jason in the arm, the blade burying into his foe's flesh…

And nothing happened.

Constantine might as well have hit Jason with a stick. All that happened was that Jason looked at the blade in his arm for a moment, and then glared critically at Constantine…

And, in that moment, as the two opponents locked eye (Jason only had a right eye that could actually _see _anything; his left eye was practically nonexistent), Constantine suddenly saw something that he hadn't been expecting.

_Pain_.

Jason was a notorious mass murderer with a body count reaching the triple figures…

And he was in _pain_?

Then Jason reached over to grab the machete out of his arm, and Constantine had to get back to the more immediate problem at hand; namely, surviving this fight. As Jason pulled the machete free, Constantine ducked the blow at the last minute (He had _never _been more grateful than now for the cure of his lung cancer) and followed it up with a rapid punch to Jason's chin thanks to his knuckledusters.

But even as Jason staggered back from the blow, machete raised to strike back once again, Constantine couldn't help but remember the pain in Jason's eyes, almost like a little boy that had seen something terrible and never fully recovered…

And he knew that, once this fight was over, he was going to need to do some _serious_ thinking over what he knew about the history and personality of the so-called 'Crystal Lake Slasher'…

* * *

As Angel lunged towards his opponent- the bizarre individual known only as 'Pinhead'- he had already come to one simple decision about this character; he could _not _hit the man in the face. Blunt or not, those pins would _hurt_…

Ducking under a blow from his opponent (Only fists at the moment, Angel noted with relief; he didn't have the time to try and find a weapon), Angel launched a punch at the Cenobite's chest. He was only mildly surprised when Pinhead managed to grab it and deflect the blow; after all, why should he be any less physically capable than the other members of the Gathering they'd been able to find information about?

Then Pinhead drew an extremely large knife, and Angel's priorities shifted from reflecting on where this guy had come from to working out how to survive a confrontation with him. As Pinhead lunged towards the vampire, Angel ducked to the side and followed up with a powerful kick to Pinhead's ribs, smiling slightly in relief as his foot made contact with bone; at least his opponent's physiology seemed to be essentially human, so it shouldn't be too hard to put him down.

Then, as Pinhead lashed out with a slash of his knife that left a long cut in Angel's arm, the vampire re-evaluated that assessment; Pinhead may _look _human, but his reflexes were easily at least as good as Drusilla's, and his strength appeared to be somewhere on the same level as Blade or Spawn. Not quite on the same level as Angel, true, but close enough to do some damage.

Drawing his own dagger, Angel lunged for Pinhead, the two of them exchanging blows as the fighting continued around them, Angle only able to spare a brief prayer that, even if they didn't manage to _defeat _any of the Gathering, they could at least survive this first assault to better prepare for the next attack…

* * *

Leo really had no idea how he'd managed to end up against this opponent.

_For Pete's sake; I went for the _Headless Horseman? Leo mentally berated himself. _What was I _thinking_; that I'd just knock him out_?

He could hold his own against most demons the Charmed Ones had encountered if the need arose, true, but in those cases the demons had mostly possessed human-like senses, making it fairly easy for Leo to get out of their path and come up with a more effective plan of attack than 'hit it a bit'.

How was he expected to hide from something that was somehow able to move even _with _the notable handicap of lacking a head…?

As the Horseman lashed out with a sweep of his sword, Leo desperately ducked under the blow and launched a punch at the Horseman's chest. Unfortunately, due to the armour the Horseman was wearing, all Leo achieved for his trouble was a bruised fist.

As the Horseman turned to 'face' Leo, sword swinging towards his neck, the Whitelighter tried to duck away from the blow, and was only partly successful; his head remained attached to his neck, but his head was hit by the flat of the blade. Seeing stars, Leo hit the ground, trying desperately to collect his thoughts and call for help, even though he knew that Spike and Constantine were too busy with _their _foes to help him…

* * *

High above the world, on a plain of existence that few knew even existed, two figures watched the two battles unfold before them, before the male figure looked up to the female.

"Can I go down now?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as he stared at the woman who had been his only source of companionship since arriving in this place.

Watching the scene unfolding before them for a moment, the woman eventually smiled and nodded at her associate.

"It is time," she said.

Then, on impulse, she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "Good luck."

The man smiled back at her briefly as he shimmered into gold light…

* * *

And then he was standing in front of a burning building, watching three of his old allies as they desperately struggled against three unstoppable juggernauts of destruction. A quick glance was all the man needed to determine that Leo, with the Horseman about to cut the Whitelighter's head off, was still the one in the most trouble.

"Hey, slappy!" the man yelled over to the Horseman.

As the Horseman 'looked' in his direction, the man smiled.

"Eat… _this_!" he yelled, as he raised his hands and launched a burst of gold lightning at the Horseman.

As the Horseman flew back, gold energy crackling all over his body, Leo turned to look at his saviour, and could only stare in amazement as he recognised who was standing there, dressed in jeans, a white long-sleeved T-shirt, and a brown coat with a fur collar, a casual smile on his face.

A face that, the last time Leo had seen it, had been sent back in time, all memories of his last adventure erased, in order to preserve history.

"_Cole_?" Leo said incredulously.

The man in question chuckled.

"Who were you expecting?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at Leo, a small smile on his face despite the seriousness of the situation. "A cheering squad?"

* * *

AN: If anyone can tell me how Pinhead merged with Elliot in _Hellraiser III: Hell on Earth_, I would appreciate it; it would help me in writing this story in the long run

AN 2:To Pinhead fans, I apologise for not making like he is in the majority of the movies; it just seemed to me that the Pinhead who could be bargained with isn't _exactly_ prime membership material for a group who exist mainly to murder, so I had to alter him a bit for plot purposes


	6. Cole Turner, Goldlighter for the CRS

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the members of the Coven, nor do I own the Coven's allies, or the various members of the Gathering

Feedback: I'd appreciate that, trust me

The Gathering of Supernatural Psychopaths

"But… but… _how_?" Leo began, as he shakily got to his feet to stare at Cole. "You're… you're…"

"Dead?" Cole asked, smiling casually at Leo.

"Well... yeah," Leo said, nodding uncertainly at the new arrival.

"Hey, so are Angel and Spike; come to that, so's that Jason guy," the former Belthazor added, indicating the man in the hockey mask in question; Constantine had just tried to kick Jason in the head while narrowly dodging a slash from the Crystal Lake Slasher's machete, but it was obvious that neither of them were going to make any progress at this rate. For a moment, Cole looked as though he was going to elaborate on what he'd just said, but then his expression became more serious. "We don't have time for that right now; the others have a more serious problem, and quite frankly, these guys are only here to provide a distraction."

"_Distraction_?" Leo said, staring incredulously at his friend; he just hoped that Cole was keeping an eye on the Horseman, because right now all his attention was focused on the new arrival. "Cole, they're a bunch of mass murderers! Distraction or not, we can't just _leave_ them here! How do you know that, once we're gone, they won't just start killing _more _people?"

"Trust me," Cole said, as he placed a reassuring hand on Leo's shoulder, raising the other hand to click his fingers. A gold spark leapt up from the crack, and Cole chuckled as he noticed Leo's puzzled expression. "I can't stop them for good, but I _can _buy us a bit of time by sending them somewhere in the pocket hell dimensions; just don't ask me to specify _where_, that's a bit vague. I'm still working on the exact _limits _of my powers right now, but I should be able to do that much, at least."

"Your _limits_?" Leo said, staring in confusion at Cole. "What are you talking about; why do you need to _learn _your limits?"

"_Leo_…" Cole groaned, as he raised his hands to generate two golden balls of energy, "as much as I'd _love _to talk this over with you, we've got _other _matters to deal with right n- GET DOWN!" he roared, as he hurtled one of the energy balls to something behind Leo. As Leo only heard a thump rather than anything else, he assumed that the Horseman had been trying to attack him once again, but that still left him confused as to what Cole was actually _doing_…

And, even as Cole spun around to launch the other energy ball at Jason Voorhees- Spike seemed to be coping well enough on his own- what _was _he? He wasn't a demon, Leo could sense that much, but he'd never heard of a light creature that could _fight_ like that; even the Elders used lightning bolts rather than _energy balls_…

"LEO!" Cole yelled, breaking into Leo's train of thought; Leo realised, much to his shock, that Cole had already knocked Jason off Constantine (Who at least looked just as confused as Leo was) and was readying another energy ball to attack the other guy. "Can you just get over your confusion about what I'm doing right nowand get ready to get us OUT OF HERE?"

Shaking his head critically, Leo nodded as he glanced around at the others; Spike, still struggling with his leather-clad foe, seemed to have noticed Leo and Cole, decided to give up for the moment, and was running over to join the two of them. He was closely followed by a very relieved-looking Constantine, both of them were staring at Cole with a combination of confusion and fear before Spike broke the silence.

"OK, what the hell are you doing here, you stupid prat?" he asked, glaring critically at Cole. "Thought you died… or went back home… or _whatever_ happened to _whichever_ Cole you are!"

Cole just smiled slightly once again.

"Trust me, Spike; your questions will all soon be answered," he said, before the smile fell and he turned to look at their assorted foes, who were now back on their feet and preparing to attack once more. "Just give me a minute…"

He waved one hand, a shower of gold sparks emitted from his palm, and then, as his three friends watched incredulously, Jason, the Horseman, and the man in the leather outfit turned into identical gold sparks and vanished.

Leo could only blink.

"Uh… Leo?" Cole asked, tapping his former brother-in-law on the shoulder, a slightly sheepish expression on his face. "Any chance you could just… I dunno… get us back to the others? I'm not _entirely_ sure how to orb other people to a safe location yet…"

Shaking his head, Leo reached out and grabbed Cole and Constantine by the shoulders- Spike had placed his hands on the Whitelighter's shoulders-, focused, they were orbing…

* * *

And then the four of them were standing back in the Coven's base, as Angel struggled with a man whose head appeared to be covered by pins, Hellboy and Spawn dodged the attacks of the Violator while launching their own, and Illyria tried to stop Freddy Krueger driving his left hand into the chest of an unconscious Blade; the blood on Krueger's face suggested he'd taken his fair share of knocks in that battle, but it was evident the Coven were only holding their own against the Gathering. 

"Hey!" Cole yelled, stepping forward to glare around the room. At the sound of his voice, everyone turned to look in his direction, although reactions were mixed; the Coven were too stunned to move, while the Gathering- particularly Violator- seemed almost outraged at Cole's 'intrusion'.

"What the hell are _you _doing here?" Violator roared, tossing Spawn- who'd been trying to stab his foe in the neck- aside as he glared at the new arrival. "You're _dead_, you fucking _twat_!"

Cole shook his head as he stared scathingly at Violator.

"Didn't you learn _anything _from that Im Ho Tep suckerwhile you were down there?" he asked, as he spread his hands and flexed his fingers. Gold lightning began to crackle between the fingers, stretching from one hand to the other, as Cole smiled at the three killers who were now facing him.

"Death… is only the beginning."

Then Cole rapidly thrust his hands forward, striking the three killers with golden energy, before all of them turned into gold sparkles and vanished.

Noting the incredulous expressions of everyone watching him, Cole smiled reassuringly.

"Don't worry; they've just been sent to a sub-division of Hell," he said dismissively. "They can't contact anyone from there, and we can get them at our leisure later."

* * *

After a silence that lasted a few seconds, one of the Coven finally felt capabel of breaking the silence that had descended on their 'base'.

"What the…?" Angel said, standing up, cradling his injured hands- despite his desires to do otherwise, he'd been forced to hit Pinhead in the face a few times, leaving multiple scratches on his fists. "_Cole_? But… but you're _dead_!"

Cole chuckled affectionately as he glanced over at the ensouled vampire.

"Last time I checked, you, Leo and Spike were in pretty much the same condition," he said, raising an eyebrow enquiringly. "Does that stop _you _three interacting with other people?"

"The key difference between us and youis, we _know _what those three are," Blade put in as he stood up, cradling his injured throat as he glared over at Cole. "Besides, last time we saw the you from the present, you were trying to kill us and remake the world in your image; forgive me if I'm a bit edgy about you being here once more."

"Oh… yeah… right," Cole said, a slightly sheepish smile on his face as he looked around the Coven once again; Illyria and Hellboy were looking particularly eager to attack him if he turned out to be a danger, and there was some new guy in black Cole didn't recognise, whose arms were covered in blades and who had a massive red cape billowing out from behind him. "Look, can I sit down? This is going to take a little while to explain…"

* * *

The Coven looked around at each other inquiringly for a few moments, and then Angel shrugged, sighed, and indicated a nearby armchair. 

"Sit down over there," he said, as he glanced over at Hellboy and Spawn, indicating that they should take up position on either side of Cole; if he _was _still a danger, it was clear that those two had the most resources available to hold Cole down until they could figure out a way to kill him… again.

"So," Blade said, as the rest of the Coven settled down in their seats and turned to look at Cole, who was apparently unconcerned about the two figures on either side of him, "care to explain how you came back?"

"And, indeed, which version of the half-breed assassin you _are_," Illyria put in as he stared critically at his former friend/foe. "Are you the past one who wished to help us, or the future one who wanted to maim and kill us after reshaping creation to suit his own twistedneeds?"

Cole shrugged. "Well, technically, I'm a bit of both," he said, as he sat back and glanced over at Angel. "Did you tell them about what happened when we fought that last time?"

"The essential details about it, yeah," Angel said, shrugging. "I made contact with whatever was left of your soul after the magic corrupted your body, it was expelled from the rest of you, and I took advantage of that time to break 'your' neck." His eyes suddenly widened, inspiration striking him as he looked at Cole. "Wait a minute… are you saying that…?"

"Exactly," Cole said, smiling slightly at the vampire. "I'm what was left of my soul after, as you so aptly put it, my body was 'corrupted' by the demonic magic that I had acquired in the Wasteland. Fortunately I'm still pretty much me- a few of my older memories gone from being basically 'crushed' into nothing when the magic took full control- but that's about it."

"Whoa there; let's back up a bit here," Spike said, raising one hand as he glared at Cole. "Are you telling me you're a _ghost_?"

"Hardly," Cole said, chuckling as he looked over at Leo. "Tell me, Leo, did the Elders ever tell you- or, indeed, any one of your associates-about the Myth of the Goldlighters?"

"The wha?" Hellboy put in, looking over at Leo in confusion. "What's that?"

"Well…" Leo began, looking around the room as he leaned forward, hands clasped before him as he stared around at his friends, "Goldlighters are one of the mysterious magical figures in history; there haven't been any reported examples of an active Goldlighter for several decades, if not centuries, even if they were ever real in the first place. Basically, they're a rare class of Whitelighter; unlike Whitelighters, who were commonly average mortals with no knowledge of magic prior to their deaths, the honour to become a Goldlighter is only bestowed on someone who already possessed some degree of magical power before they died."

"What, like witches?" Blade asked.

"Sometimes," Leo admitted, as he glanced over at Constantine. "However, it's very rare that witches become Goldlighters; in most cases, witches have already done all the good they can do in their lives when they die, and many of them prefer to pass on and rest rather than continue the fight. I heard that Prue- the eldest Charmed One- was offered the chance to become a Goldlighter after her death, but when Paige was discovered, she declined the offer; apparently she wanted to give Paige the chance to make her own place in Piper and Phoebe's lives, without having her drop in all the time. Besides, with Paige the Power of Three remained, which was the main reason that Prue would have to stay with her sisters in the first place. Anyway, the role of Goldlighter is often given to people who fought for good without any active powers to help them- you know, like, for example, Constantine could become a Goldlighter if he wanted."

"What're these 'Goldlighters' capable of?" Spawn asked, his 'mask' folding back into his face as he looked inquiringly at Leo. "I mean, last time I checked, according to Cogliostro, Leo can't do anything much other than orb, heal, levitate, and change the temperature of things a bit. What makes Goldlighters so different?"

"Several things, really," Leo said, as he glanced over at Spawn. "The main difference is that Goldlighters are capable of killing the demons they face, when Whitelighters are pretty much forbidden and incapableof doing anything of the sort; they often serve as some of the main warriors for the forces of good when a major battle is taking place. They can generate lighting and energy balls, but they also send their enemies to various locations- although they rarely have any real control over the precise details of_where _they're going, they can get them to an approximate location- and their physical abilities are also heightened to a greater-than-human level. Goldlighters aren't quite as strong as vampires, but they're still strong enough to cope with most people in a- wait a minute…" he said, as he turned to look at Cole, the rest of the Coven doing the same as they began to realise the full implication of what they'd been hearing.

If Cole knew something about Goldlighters, and he was now back from the dead, the implications seemed pretty obvious…

Noting the gazes fixed on him, Cole smiled casually.

"What?" he asked, as though he genuinely had no idea what was wrong. "Do I have a piece of spinach in my teeth or something?"

"You're a _Goldlighter_?" Spike said, staring at Cole as though the former Belthazor had grown an extra head or some other, more significant extra attribute.

"No, I'm the Tooth Fairy, didn't you get the memo?" Cole retorted sarcastically as he glared back at Spike, before turning to look at Leo and nodding in confirmation. "But, yeah, you got it; I was contacted by a Higher Power as I died, and they informed me that, in recognition of the sacrifice I had made to stop… me… - and that is a _weird_ sentence to say, let me tell you- I was to be accorded the status of Goldlighter, and, when the time was right, I would rejoin the Coven of Reformed Supernaturals."

He glanced over at Angel. "Actually, the Power in questionsaid thatshe knew you; called herself… Cordelia?"

"_Cordelia_?" Angel, Spike and Illyria said, looking up sharply at Cole (Illyria appeared less shocked than the vampires, but her memories of the former Seer were only second-hand, so she was naturally going to be less involved).

"Yeah; she says that, after the last time you guys met, she managed to become elevated to a Higher Power status, but, this time, she was on a level where she can take a more _active _role in the world's affairs- no direct contact, but she's able to advise and guide others more than she was originally," Cole explained, as he folded his hands behind his head and looked at Angel as he spoke. "She thinks about you guys a lot, by the way; I asked her why she wanted to help me after all I'd done… well, sort of done, anyway… and she just told me that a man like me had helped her once, and she wanted to return the favour."

Smiling slightly, he spread his hands and looked inquiringly at his old friends/enemies. "Well, there's my story; only question now is whether or not you want me to stay and help out."

The assorted members of the Coven looked around inquiringly at each other, and then Angel nodded briefly.

"OK, you're in," he said, looking at Cole. "But, just so you know, if we see _any _sign of you using a power that you can't provide a clear, concise explanation about how you came to possess it, you're going to be pinned to the ground under several pounds of Hellboy until we figure out whether or not you're an actual _danger _to all of us-"

"And, if I am, you'll kill me?" Cole asked. He shrugged. "Fair enough. So, what's next?"

"Seems logical," Spawn said, looking over at his new allies. "We go down to where you sent the Gathering and take them out before they can do any further damage, right?"

Blade nodded in approval.

"Seems sensible," he said, looking over at Angel. "After all, they're probably a bit confused by what just happened to them; we might be able to take them by surprise if we move fast enough, right?"

"All for that myself," Spike said. Hellboy, Constantine and Illyria nodded in agreement, and, after a brief glance at each other, Cole and Leo did the same thing. As the various members turned to look at Angel, the vampire stared ahead of himself for a while, as though trying to come to a decision, and then sighed and leant forward, staring at his allies.

"Well, we'd better get moving," he said, looking at the others. "If we don't hurry up, they might start to prepare themselves for an attack; the faster we strike, the better chance of victory."

He glanced over at Cole. "You can get us to where you sent them?"

"Pretty much as soon as they got there," Cole smiled as he stood up. "The whole dimensional time differentiation thing, know what I mean?"

Angel just nodded grimly as he stood up; his time in Hell had taught him that much, if nothing else.

Reaching out, Cole placed his hands on Angel and Blade's shoulders, as the rest of the Coven placed their own hands on their allies; Spike and Illyria placed their hands on Angel's shoulders, Leo and Hellboy came into contact with Blade's shoulders, and Constantine and Spawn clasped Cole's shoulders.

Then Cole closed his eyes, focused, there was a brief sparkle of gold light…


	7. Round Two: First Confrontation with IT

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the members of the Coven, nor do I own the Coven's allies, or the various members of the Gathering

Feedback: I'd appreciate that, trust me

AN: Sorry about the delay; I've got a bit of writer's block on this story recently, but I _do _intend to finish it, I assure you

The Gathering of Supernatural Psychopaths

In a plane of existence that very few eyes, both mortal and immortal, had ever seen, and even fewer of those who'd seen it had _wanted _to see it, a tall, majestic figure sat in a large, elaborate throne, chuckling slightly as it stared at a floating white 'ball' before it. Black strands of metal, large spikes sticking out of the metal as though they were claws of some kind, clasped the ball like the fingers of a hand, while, inside the ball itself, the Coven of Reformed Supernaturals was shown, as Cole orbed them down to where he had left the Gathering.

The figure in the throne smiled to himself.

_Perfect_, he mused. _With them occupied, their world is, for the moment, relatively ripe for the plucking_.

Oh, it had its dangers, of course- the Charmed Ones and the Slayers would not go down easily, he knew- but, compared to the Coven, with their almost _natural _understanding of evil and its capabilities, coupled with their unparalleled ferocity in destroying their opponents- even the Slayers couldn't match the rage the Coven was capable of directing at the force that had deprived them of their precious _humanity_- they weren't all that much of a threat.

No… for all intents and purposes, the Earth that had given rise to the Coven of Reformed Supernaturals was, for the present, ready and waiting for his forces to attack.

All he had to do was gather them for the assault in question, time it so that the Coven were otherwise occupied with the Gathering until his attack was completed, and it would all be over.

* * *

As the gold light faded, the Coven found themselves standing on a floating stone platform, amid a mass of similar platforms. Fire simultaneously blazed in a brilliant inferno around them and yet could not be seen when they looked for it; there was no logic to the structure of the rocks and yet a vague pattern could be seen; there was no fixed 'down' and yet they were perfectly stable…

"Oh bugger…" Spike muttered, his hands going to his mouth as the rock they were on seemed to fly around the area they'd arrived in, collapsing to his knees as he did so. "I think I'm going to be bloody _sick_…"

"Are you _sure_ this is where you orbed those guys?" Spawn asked, yelling over at where Cole was standing at the back, looking at his surroundings in confusion. "I mean, this does _not _look like somewhere you'd stick something you didn't want to be found!"

"Uh… are you _nuts_?" Hellboy asked, indicating his surroundings with his stone arm. "This place is a freaking headache just _looking _at it! Why would something be _easy _to find here?"

"_While that may be accurate_," Spawn said, glaring back at the demon before turning to look at Angel, "this place looks more like the Malebolgia's private dwelling- you know, the guy who gave me this suit in the first place- to me than some random part of Hell; surely-"

"Of _course_!" Cole suddenly yelled, interrupting Spawn's speech and causing everyone to look in his direction (Baring Spike, who had finally lost the battle with the rapid momentum, staggered over to the side of the still-moving rock, and lost whatever could be called 'lunch' for a vampire). "Sorry guys, I forgot something- Spawn, step back, I need to take the lead right _now_!"

Spawn stared at Cole in confusion for a moment, but a nod from Angel seemed to at least temporarily stop his doubts about his new ally, and the ex-assassin willingly stepped back as the Goldlighter walked forwards. He seemed to focus for a moment, closing his eyes as though concentrating on something, and suddenly, the entire landscape _shifted_…

To become a just as firey, albeit more stable, landscape that _didn't _defy the laws of physics, that looked as though it had just suffered from a volcanic eruption of some kind and the lava was still cooling.

"What the…?" Blade said, staring around at the changed landscape in confusion before glancing over at Cole. "What just happened here?"

"At this area of Hell- which is strictly more the _outskirts _of Hell rather than the actual thing, by the way; we'd have a lot more trouble entering Hell itself- the reality around us is mainly based on the perception of the leading member of a group, if it's a group rather than a single person," Cole explained, looking casually back at his allies. "When I 'orbed' us to where I'd sent the Gathering, Spawn was the first one down in Hell, probably since his armour was pretty much forged- or grown, whatever the term is- in the central areas of Hell, so arrived there sooner due to his armour's 'subconscious desire' to go 'home'."

"And, as a result, that particular portion of Hell shaped itself around what the Hellspawn was expecting to experience down in Hell, rather than what _actually _exists, which is where the Gathering members now await us?" Illyria asked.

"Well, really it's currently based around what _I _expected when I orbed the members of the Gathering into this area, but the essential details are accurate, yes," Cole said, grinning in approval before he turned back to look at his surroundings. "Anyway, for the moment I should probably stay in the lead; as I said, I orbed the Gathering members to what _I _was expecting to be here, so their location is based on what I'm expecting to find. With that in mind, I should be able to find them easily enough; none of them are natural teleporters, so they can't have left yet, and I doubt they'd manage to get too far from where I sent the, when all they can do is walk."

Angel nodded in agreement. "OK, you're in the lead for the moment; you know this environment, after all," he said, before he glanced back at the others. "However, if we run into trouble, and _any_ of you feel pretty certain that you have a certain expectation about being sent to a version of Hell that might give us an advantage in a fight- whatever it's like, no matter how bad it is- you take the lead, OK?"

The Coven nodded in agreement, and then Cole began to lead them through the flaming landscape they had arrived in, glancing anxiously around at his surroundings, one arm raised as though ready to summon an energy ball at a moment's notice.

Of course, he was hardly the only one ready for an attack of some kind. Several sharp blades had sprouted from Spawn's arms almost instinctively as the Coven had started moving, and Hellboy, Constantine and Blade were all holding their favoured weapons in the ready position as they stared around at their surroundings. The other Coven members were also tensed and ready for battle, their hands over their assorted weapons, or simply flexing their fingers if they had no weapons, as they waited for some sign of the Gathering members.

"Hoo boy…" Spike muttered, as he stared at his surroundings before glancing over at Angel. "Just out of curiosity, if this place changes for whoever's experiencing it, what was it like when _you _were down here?"

Angel didn't answer, which said everything Spike needed to know about his grandsire's experience.

If he wasn't willing to talk about his time in Hell, even after everything the two of them had seen when they _didn't_ have their souls and were some of the most ruthless vampires who'd ever lived, it had clearly _not _been a pleasant time…

Then a figure stood up in front of them, apparently dusting itself down as it grinned over in their direction, and they were instantly on the alert.

It was the Cenobite known as Pinhead.

And, the grin on his face aside as he stared at the Coven, he did _not _look all that amused to have been sent here against his will…

"So, Cole Turner, you have joined _them_ again, I see?" he said, staring critically at the Goldlighter. "After trying to destroy the world while fighting _against _them, you now seek to save it while fighting _with _them. How… interesting… that a man with your rather… chequered, for lack of a better term… past, would still believe that such a thing as redemption can be possible."

Cole shrugged. "Redemption isn't always impossible, Pinhead," he retorted, glaring critically at the Cenobite. "It's not an easy path to walk, I admit- I've got so much blood on my hands I feel like it'll take ages for it to even _begin _to wash away- but I'm prepared to give it a shot. If I don't at least _try _to make up for what I've done, rather than just wallow in guilt for my actions now that I've developed a conscience, I might as well have never stopped being evil in the first place."

Pinhead tutted critically.

"If you believe _that_, then you are a greater fool than most of us thought you were," he said, glaring back at Cole. Then he shrugged nonchalantly and raised his hands, each one now holding two long, thin swords in a tight grip.

"Anyway, enough with these pleasantries," he said, smiling slightly at the Coven members. "Shall we begin? I'm prepared to make it easier for you; I won't even use any long-range weapons."

* * *

"With pleasure…" Blade growled, staring harshly at the Cenobite under his glasses.

He didn't know much about who this guy was- he was, after all, apparently an unexpected addition to the Gathering, so information about him hadn't been included in the files- but Blade vaguely recalled hearing stories about a monster who looked like this guy and led an army of demons after a unique box of some kind was opened, and _none _of them had been pleasant.

From what he recalled, those who weren't killed by these guys after encountering them were left practically traumatised by the encounter.

If this guy was who he seemed to be, Blade was going to take _particular _pleasure in putting him down, no matter how hard it might be.

A guy who caused pain to innocent people just because he wanted to experiment with human senses…

The bastard was _his_.

Raising his sword, the vampire/human hyrbid leapt towards Pinhead, his lips curled back to reveal his partly-formed vampire fangs…

And, before any of the Coven could stop him, the half-vampire had already passed Cole, and the landscape around them had almost seamlessly shifted into a mass of screaming bodies, each of them looking like they were being constantly tortured and torn apart by all kinds of demons and machinery, only to be put back together when there wasn't enough of them left to torture effectively.

Evidently, Blade had a very… _stereotypical_ vision of what Hell would turn out to be; probably his encounters with the vampires of his world and their fetish for self-mutilation played a part in it.

As the rest of the Coven stared at their new surroundings in horror, Cole so shaken by the sudden change he seemed almost unable even to _think _about taking the lead once more, Blade, apparently unaware or unconcerned about the change in the landscape, sent his sword hurtling down towards Pinhead's face. Casually, the Cenobite raised his own weapons in a cross shape, stopping Blade's sword with a loud CLANG of metal on metal as he caught it between the two blades, before looking casually at Blade over the three sharp pieces of metal between then, apparently unconcerned about Blade's sword being mere centimetres from his head.

"An interesting landscape your subconscious has created, Daywalker," he said, a small smile on his lips. "I like it."

"Shut! UP!" Blade growled, as he exerted even greater force on his sword as he stared at the leader of the Cenobites, trying desperately to force his opponent back even as Pinhead appeared unconcerned about retaliating himself…

Then something- or rather, some_one_; evidently another member of the Gathering- struck Blade in the side, sending his sword flying out of his hands and flipping the Daywalker over to crash into one of the nearby 'torture chambers', and Blade knew that things were about to get a whole lot worse.

With a desperate shove, he threw his attacker off to one side, vaguely registering that it seemed to be some creep in a leather outfit carrying two large swords and wearing some kind of gas mask- another face that _hadn't _been included in the earlier briefing on the Gathering based on Midnight's files, he noted- but, before he could do anything else, the red form of Hellboy had stepped forward and grabbed the sucker by the throat with his stone hand.

Confused, Blade looked in Hellboy's direction, and saw him staring at the new arrival whose neck he now clutched in his hand with a mixture of rage and disbelief.

"I _killed _you, you _bastard_!" Hellboy roared, as he brought his hand up close to his face, the better to make sure his opponent heard his words. "I shoved you onto a _stupid _amount of knives and watched the dust that's all you've got _left _of blood leak out of you!"

Hurling the leather-clad man off to one side, Hellboy dived after him, fists clenched as he punched his opponent just as the man was staggering back to his feet. "Will you just stay _dead _this time!"

The new arrival otherwise occupied, Blade was once again free to leap back onto his feet and lash out at Pinhead. The Cenobite leader appeared to have been distracted by the presence of Hellboy, given that Blade's sword swiftly struck his arm and left a long cut on his chest. Despite the size of the wound, however, Pinhead appeared to be relatively unfazed by the attack, quickly slashing at Blade with his own sword, forcing the hybrid to begin the duel all over again.

Blade just wished that his opponent's blades weren't so much _thicker _than his own; his blade had been through a lot since it was forged and survived it, true, but too much from that sucker and he'd need to reforge the thing _again_.

He'd rather _not _have to do that any time soon, really; as far as he was concerned, having to melt the sword back together after the final fight with the Reapers had been more than enough of _that_ kind of work for him…

* * *

Behind Blade, the remaining members of the Coven were anxiously scanning their new surroundings, Cole trying desperately to regain his fix on where the members of the Gathering had landed even as the rest of the team kept an eye out for any other members of the team that many were already thinking of as simply 'the Dark Coven'. With Hellboy and Blade locked in battle with two heavily-armed opponents, having someone _else _step forward at the moment, thus causing reality to shift around them into something they couldn't predict once more, didn't strike any of them as being a good idea.

"Any ideas who the new guy is?" Angel asked Leo, as the Whitelighter's eyes rapidly took in their surroundings with a growing sense of panic; after all, of all of the Coven, Leo was one of the most vulnerable in a fight. Even Constantine had the Holy Shotgun and his various knuckledusters to try and cause some kind of damage to his opponent; all Leo had, besides the ability to maintain contact with the Elders and heal his friends when they were injured on missions, was the ability to orb and whatever weapons any of the other members of the team were able to lend him at the time.

"Uh… I think he's Karl Ruprecht Kroenen…" Leo said, glancing briefly back at Angel. "He was the head of the Thule Occult Society back in Nazi Germany in the 1940s, and was involved in the ritual that first brought Hellboy to Earth; he's had so much surgery that he's just dust and metal now, rather than blood and bone. I think I even heard that he had his eyelids and lips removed, along with some kind of rotary mechanism in his wrists that let him use spin those swords, but I didn't really pay much attention; he was thought to be dead, and, to be honest…"

"The whole thing grossed you out, huh?" Constantine said, a small smile on his face as he looked back at Leo, a part of him almost amused at the Whitelighter's squeamishness. "Trust me, you're not the only one; that someone might be willing to go through all that crap's enough to even freak _me _out."

"Ouch…" Spike muttered to himself in agreement as he looked at the creature currently lashing out at Hellboy; the demon was evidently the stronger, but Kroenen was faster, managing to avoid Hellboy's most damaging blows while staying close enough to deliver a few attacks of his own easily enough. "What the Hell was _wrong _with that guy to go through with _that _kind of shit?"

"I don't know, and, right now, I don't care," Angel said, as he reached into his coat to pull out his knives. "We've only got two of them to deal with right now; we have to attack _now _before they get reinforcements. Got me?"

The Coven nodded in agreement, Constantine quickly checking the Holy Shotgun for ammunition as Spike and Illyria pulled out their own weapons, Illyria tossing a small axe over to Leo. As Cole raised his hands, energy balls in both of them, the entire Coven charged towards their two foes, already picking out where they would do the most damage by attacking…

And suddenly, a new figure appeared in front of them all, apparently simultaneously summoning a mass of shadows around it to conceal its appearance from the others. As the Coven turned to study the new arrival, it raised its head (Apparently; the shadows surrounding the figure made it difficult to be sure what it was doing), looked around at its surroundings, and then spread its arms out wide, apparently sending both Pinhead and Kroennon flying away from their opponents at a rapid speed (There might have been something else that caused that, although personally Angel doubted it).

"Now now, is that _really _the right kind of attitude to have at this stage of the proceedings?" the figure said, grinning as it looked around at the Coven, who were staring at the new arrival incredulously. The voice sounded like a normal human male, but its tone and manner seemed to be almost _brimming _over with 'hints' that it was something else.

"I mean, _honestly_," the 'man' continued, "we go to all this effort to get you split up so we can kill you effectively, and you go and stick our forces down _here_? You should just be grateful that we're good sports; you could give someone the wrong impression by doing this."

The Coven just stared at the new arrival in confusion for a few moments until Spawn finally broke the silence.

"Who the _hell _are you?" he asked, sharp blades sprouting from his shoulders as though he wanted to punctuate the ferocity of his words.

"Why I'm Mr Bob Gray," the 'man' said, his eyes gleaming in a more-than-slightly unnerving manner as the shadows around him began to slowly fade away in the fires around them. "Of course, others know me as Pennywise the Dancing Clown, but I'm prepared to be flexible; you can call me either."

_Bob Gray?_ Angel thought to himself in confusion. He vaguely recalled there being one member of the Gathering that didn't seem to have an actual name according to the files, so this guy _could _be that guy giving himself some kind of alias, but what had the member in question _been_…?

Then he remembered.

It was the shape-shifting monster that had been plaguing the city of Derry for the last few centuries in twenty-eight-year intervals.

"Oh no…" he whispered, as the 'creature'- he suddenly couldn't think of it as a man any more, remembering what it had done to its victims according to the files- began to walk towards them, moving slowly out of the shadows that it had surrounded itself with upon its arrival.

"RU-!" he began, only to suddenly find himself pinned to the ground by what looked like a massive spider's leg through his shoulder, the spider in question standing almost directly above him, glaring at him with gleaming red eyes. Glancing at its other legs, Angel traced the location where they touched the ground as best he could without straining the pain in his shoulder, and noted that most of the other members of the Coven were in a similar situation to him; pinned to the ground by the spider's legs. Like him, Spike, Constantine, and Illyria were being held down by legs that had penetrated their shoulders or arms, while Leo, Cole and Spawn, had legs through their stomachs.

Of course, given their own natural healing abilities- even if Spawn's was provided by his armour rather than himself- they were all still perfectly fine, but that didn't mean these wounds wouldn't hurt whenever they were freed…

_That won't be happening, Angel_, a dark voice said in the back of Angel's skull, startling Angel out of his train of thought; he knew that vampires could _receive _telepathic messages, but he'd become so used to telepaths being _unable _to read his mind that he hadn't expected that the Coven could have a member to whom that rule didn't apply.

But, given the glare this spider-thing was giving him right now, it was clear that this sucker _did _know what he was thinking.

_Naturally, Angel_, the spider 'said' into his head. _And, honestly, the thought that you and your team could kill _any _of us is laughable; we could _always _be prepared to cross the lines that you wouldn't dare… such as, say, threatening _others _to get what we want?_

Angel growled low in his throat as he stared up at the creature. He wished that he could do _something _to make this creature let them go, but with one arm useless and the other one not that much better- coupled with his lack of any long-range weapons at the precise moment in time- he was powerless, as were all the other members of the Coven…

_Wait a minute_, Angel thought, as realisation struck him. _This sucker doesn't have _all _of us pinned down right now_…

"BLADE!" he yelled as loudly as he could, trying to ignore the pain in his arm as he strained to see his friends. "HELLBOY! LITTLE HELP OVER HERE!"

For a moment, there was no response, and Angel thought that he'd miscalculated, that Blade and Hellboy _were _pinned down and he just couldn't see them in his current position…

Then a large red stone fist crashed into the spider's head, sending it staggering back with such force that its legs were practically torn out of the Coven members it had been holding down, and, despite the renewed pain in his arm, Angel grinned.

_YES_! he thought to himself as he got to his feet as best he could, trying to avoid using his left arm until his vampire healing could get it into a workable condition. As he'd hoped, when this creature had attacked the Coven, Blade and Hellboy had been slightly out of range of its legs due to their earlier battles with Pinhead and Kroennon, so had escaped being pinned down; he'd be prepared to bet good money that the creature had been trying to use its powers to keep them off-balance until his yell for help had broken through to them.

As the giant spider-like beast was sent staggering back from Hellboy's most powerful blows, Blade close on the heels of the red-skinned demon as he slashed at the creature's legs with his sword, Angel glanced around at the rest of the team, noting with relief that Cole and Leo were already back to normal as expected; Spawn was taking longer to heal, but Angel knew that the ex-assassin's armour would get the job done eventually.

It was the _eventually _part of the equation none of them had time for right now…

"Cole!" Angel yelled over at the Goldlighter, who seemed to have been checking his stomach for any remaining injuries. "Can you _heal_ multiple people at once?"

For a moment, Cole hesitated, but then nodded.

"Yeah, I think so," he said, as he stared thoughtfully at his hands for a moment before nodding. "Just hold still…"

Raising his hands, gold light burst from the former Source's palms, spreading to his allies' various arm injuries, rapidly sealing and repairing the damaged tissue as though it were nothing. In a matter of seconds, Angel's arm was as good as new, and the others were in pretty much perfect shape as well.

"Nice," Constantine said approvingly, before looking up at Angel once more. "So, boss… what's the next move?"

Looking over at where Hellboy and Blade were still attacking the creature, which seemed to be regaining enough of its senses to enable it to counter-attack in a short amount of time, Angel sighed.

There was only one choice to make.

"We head back to base to regroup and come up with a new plan," he said simply. Before any of the other Coven members could say anything, he raised one hand in a 'halt' gesture and continued to speak. "We have to face facts; we've spent so long dealing with _these _guys that the other members of the Gathering have probably already gone by now. We're not accomplishing anything if we stay here and exhaust ourselves fighting _one _of them. If nothing else, we're fighting on _their _home territory, rather than ours; it'd be too easy for them to summon back-up from the minor demons that live down here."

He looked over at Cole. "Get us out of here, Cole; _now_."

Nodding resolutely, Cole raised his hands to gather gold energy…

Constantine smiled slightly as though something had just occurred to him that hadn't earlier…

Blade was sent flying backwards- literally _flying _backwards- as the creature struck at him with one of its legs…

Then gold light surrounded all nine members of the Coven of Reformed Supernaturals…

* * *

…And, once again, they were standing in the pocket dimension that served as their 'base', all of them shaken by the battle, but all still alive.

Glancing over at where Blade had materialised, Angel was relieved to see that Blade seemed unharmed by the creature's last attack; he had landed in the 'combat area', as Spike had named the part of their 'base' where they had their practice matches, such as Angel's earlier fight with Spawn, and seemed to be silently fuming about some unknown matter.

Then, before any of the other Coven members could say something, everything Blade seemed to be trying to bottle up came out at once.

"_Crap_!" Blade roared in frustration, lashing out at a nearby punching bag with such a forceful kick that the bag was sent flying off to hit a nearby 'wall'. "Those _bloody BASTARDS_! Like we don't have _enough _shit to deal with, they've gathered _MORE _basket cases _onto their stupid team_!"

"Blade, calm down-" Angel began, walking in front of Blade to face his friend.

"_CALM DOWN_!" Blade roared incredulously, grabbing Angel's coat by the lapels, actually lifting Angel a couple of inches off the floor as he continued to yell into his leader's face. "Those _BASTARDS _could have sodding _KILLED_ us back there, Angel! We're going to get fucking _screwed_! There's no _way _we can beat these basket cases; that spider sucker _alone _nearly _had you all for BREAKFAST_? _YOU'RE ASKING ME TO CALM DOWN WHEN WE DON'T HAVE EVEN A _PRAYER _OF SURVIVING THIS FIGHT_?"

"Well," Constantine's voice put in from off to one side, "personally, I've got an idea that might help us even the odds up a bit."

Glancing over in the direction of the detective/exorcist's voice as Spike released his grip on Angel's coat, the Coven were surprised to see that he was sitting by the table where they'd left the folders on the Gathering, looking at some of the sheets of information on the various members of the Coven's evil counterpart.

Specifically, the sheets of paper relating to the personal history of Jason Voorhees.

"Uh… is something happening that we should know about?" Spike asked, looking at the file in confusion. "Why are you looking through that guy's file?"

"Had to confirm a theory of mine before I told you guys my plan," Constantine explained, as he put the file down and turned to look at the others.

"And?" Cole asked, waving a hand in a prompting manner. "Since your theory's probably been confirmed if you're talking about it now, what's your plan?"

"Simple," Constantine said, as he looked over at Angel. "I recommend that we recruit Jason Voorhees to help us tackle the Gathering."


	8. Motive to the Murders of Jason Voorhees

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the members of the Coven, nor do I own the Coven's allies, or the various members of the Gathering

Feedback: I'd appreciate that, trust me

The Gathering of Supernatural Psychopaths

"WHAT?" Spike roared, staring incredulously at Constantine as soon as the exorcist's words had left his mouth; judging by the tone of his voice, nobody could have been blamed for thinking that Constantine had just asked the vampire to walk into Hell while still alive.

"Are you _sodding INSANE_?" the vampire continued, walking up to stand directly in front of Constantine, his face shifting into its vampire form as though he wanted to form a more intimidating presence as he confronted his fellow Coven member. "That _bastard's _got a body count in the triple-digit-figures, seems determined to make it bigger, is about as interested in negotiating with other people as a lion is in having a nice little chat with the zebra, and seems to lack the IQ of a piece of bloody _moss_! Why the Hell should we try and get _him _to work with us? He'll just kill us all when we're asleep and go hurrying back to the other Gathering members before continuing their little slaughter spree until there's nobody left alive on the bloody _planet_!"

To be fair to Spike, similar thoughts were flying through Angel's mind about Constantine's plan right now- as they were going through the minds of the rest of the Coven, he was sure- but Angel couldn't help but feel exasperated at Spike's attitude towards the exorcist's idea before they'd even heard the plan.

True, recruiting Jason Voorhees _did _seem like a bad idea, given all the reasons Spike had just listed and possibly more, but Angel was at least prepared to _listen_ to Constantine's reasons for suggesting such an action before he started rejecting them totally.

Of course, right now he'd have allowed his _soul _to be extracted and Angelus to come back if he thought it would help them win this fight; at least recruiting Jason wouldn't potentially _limit _their available manpower…

"Well," Constantine said, staring coolly at Spike as the vampire stood in front of him, evidently unfazed by his friend's attempts to intimidate him, "for one thing, the last time I checked, you, Angel and Cole have a pretty sizable body count of innocent people yourselves, while Hellboy, Cole, and Angel alone have come pretty close to ending the _world_; does that stop you accepting any of _them _as allies while they're fighting on our side?"

"Well… that's totally different!" Spike said, glaring at Constantine even as he glanced briefly back at the rest of the Coven as though hoping they were prepared to back him up in their defence. Finding no support from Angel, Cole or Hellboy, the vampire appeared to decide to pretend that he hadn't been asking for back-up and continue talking regardless. "For one thing, we're actually _interested _in making up for all the shit we've done in the past; hell, half of us aren't even the exact same _people _who did that crap the first time around! What the _hell _makes you think _Jason's _trying to make up for what he's done, you goddamn _idiot_? That's just got to be the _dumbest _plan I've ever heard in-"

Sensing a hand on his shoulder, Spike stopped talking and, turning around uncertainly to look at the person now standing behind him, swallowed nervously as he saw Angel standing behind him, glaring critically at his grandchilde.

"Let him speak, Spike," the older vampire said simply, staring at the only other vampire with a soul in existence on their plane of reality. "We have nothing to lose by hearing his plan, and, if it turns out that the plan has the potential to actually _work_, we may well gain an ally who could turn the tide of this battle for us."

For a moment, Spike looked like he was ready to just hit Angel and continue yelling at Constantine for being such an _idiot_ as to come up with such a _stupid _plan as to suggest they recruit one of the guys on the _other _team to help _their _team…

But, in the end, he didn't do anything like that; he just sighed in frustration and sat down in a nearby chair, leaving the rest of the Coven to sit down in their own chairs as Constantine took a position at the top of the group to address them.

"So," Angel said, staring critically at Constantine, "start talking. Why do you think we should recruit Jason Voorhees to help us _stop _the Gathering of Supernatural Psychopaths, seeing that he's a _member _of the group in question at the moment?"

"Simple," Constantine said, as he looked over at Angel. "He's not like them."

There was silence throughout the room for a moment, and then Spawn raised a hand, glaring at Constantine as he spoke (His 'mask' had pulled back from his head now that they were no longer in combat, once again revealing his badly-burned face and shockingly green eyes).

"Care to clarify what you mean by that, John?" the ex-assassin said, his eyes narrowed as he glared at Constantine. "From where I'm sitting, Voorhees is just as bad as the rest of them; the man's killed something like a _hundred _people who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, and doesn't seem all that willing to listen to people who'll give him something if he doesn't kill them."

"He's got his problems, yeah," Constantine admitted, looking slightly grudgingly in Spawn's direction, "but the key difference between him and the rest is simple; they all started killing because it's either in their nature or they just like killing people. Nothing _made _them like that, they're just natural bastards, as far as I can tell- particularly in Freddy's case, from what I've read."

"Why is Jason Voorhees different from them?" Illyria asked, looking critically over at Constantine as she sat in her leather chair as though it were a throne. Angel and Spike sometimes speculated that, even if she hadn't had a body like her current one when she'd been the God-King of the Los Angeles area, some part of her had automatically 'translated' the appearance she would have projected in her original body to affect her attitude in her current one on occasions, thus explaining why she still sometimes acted like she was in charge.

"For one thing, he didn't start killing whenever anyone got on his nerves," Constantine explained, as he looked over at Illyria. "Originally, the kid was mentally handicapped and looked like something you'd expect to find in a monster movie, particularly if you were a kid in the fifties; his head was abnormally large and one eye kind of… drooped, is the best way to describe it- he got teased about it mercilessly."

"And that makes him _different_?" Hellboy said, looking critically at the exorcist. "He got bullied at school-"

"Summer camp," Constantine corrected. "A kid with Jason's kind of problems couldn't have gone to school back in those days; he only even got to go to the camp because his mother worked there as a cook and didn't have the time or inclination to hire somebody else to look after him."

"Whatever," Hellboy said, shrugging the comment off before continuing. "Anyway, just because he only started killing because he got picked on at school, that makes him _different _from the rest of the Gathering? Still being angry at a bit of childhood bullying seems like a pretty pathetic excuse for mass murder, if you ask me."

"Good thing that _isn't _his 'excuse' for what he's done, then, isn't it?" Constantine retorted, glaring at the red-skinned demon. "If you're not going to let me say my piece before criticising me, you can just get out of here and wait in the 'corner'- or what passes for one here- until I'm done, OK?"

Hellboy growled slightly as he looked at his associate, but he decided not to continue with that line of protest; he just stayed silent, sitting back in his chair as he studied the rest of the Coven while they listened to Constantine's explanation.

"As I was saying," the two-time suicide said as he studied his fellow Coven members, "Jason's life changed when he was chased into the lake near the camp by some of the children, who were teasing him about his inability to swim. There were a couple of camp counsellors nearby, but they were apparently busy having sex in a nearby cabin, so they didn't hear Jason's cries for help before it was too late."

"What; the kid died and came back to life?" Blade asked, looking curiously at the supernatural detective.

"No; he apparently survived the near-drowning experience, but he ended up in the nearby woods and lived there alone for the next few years as a hermit," Constantine explained, looking briefly at the hybrid before he continued speaking to the entire Coven. "Unfortunately, his mother didn't know that, and- probably because of her own pre-existing mental problems- she became more than _slightly _homicidal. She killed the counsellors who'd been… otherwise occupied… while Jason was 'drowning', and then kept on killing anyone who tried to open the camp again for the next few years, in a deluded attempt to get 'revenge' for Jason's 'death'. Eventually, she was decapitated by one of the other counsellors, but Jason was nearby and he- unfortunately- saw the whole thing happen."

"Let me guess, you're attributing _that _as being the reason the sod turned out to be such a bloody fruitcake?" Spike asked, looking critically at Constantine, his tone of voice making it easily apparent that, whatever Jason's reasons for being what he was, Spike still thought that this was an extremely _bad _idea.

"_Yes_," Constantine said, glaring critically in the vampire's direction before looking over at Angel. "The thing we've got to take into account is that Jason's not exactly the most… intellectual kind of guy. When he saw his mother die, his instinctive reaction was to kill her murderer as soon as he could in revenge- I doubt he could fully process the idea of self-defence, and in any case… well, don't we always think that our mothers are just perfect when we're growing up, no matter what else happens?"

He paused for a moment, giving the Coven time to reflect on what he had just said to them, and then continued. "Anyway, when the camp opened up once again, I think a part of Jason thought that, since he lost his mother the _last _time someone tried to open the camp, he might lose _more _if the camp was allowed to remain open."

Angel nodded thoughtfully at the story as he listened to it, clearly turning over the details in his mind. He still seemed slightly sceptical of Constantine's assessment of Jason's character, but, as he took in what his friend had said, he still showed no sign of telling Constantine to stop.

Noting Angel's willingness to keep listening, Constantine continued. "I think that, with the loss of his mother- the only person who ever actually _cared _about him- Jason became increasingly detached from his already-fragile grip on reality. With his mother gone, he became convinced that literally _nobody _cared about him, nobody could ever understand him, and resolved to strike back at the world that had done nothing but take away the only person who actually _cared _about him. After he developed that whole 'come back from the dead every time someone killed him' thing, he just got even more irrational every time he was resurrected; from what I can gather, the resurrection process didn't really leave him with a great deal in the way of brain tissue, and, as I said, he was hardly Albert Einstein to start with."

"I see…" Angel said, nodding thoughtfully as he looked at Constantine. "So, you're saying that the main reason he kills is that he thinks nobody else in the world actually _cares _about him, and he's just lashing out at anybody who gets in range…"

"I've got a point about that I'd like to make," Spawn said, raising a hand to look at Constantine. "Not that I don't think you're making a valid point here, but, if that's the case, why hasn't Voorhees attacked the _other _members of the Gathering yet?"

Constantine shrugged slightly at that. "Best guess is that he recognises that he can 'get revenge' on more people if they're alive rather than if he kills them; I doubt he actually _likes _any of them," he said, before a small smile crossed his face. "If nothing else, Freddy _certainly _isn't the most popular guy with Jason normally; the sucker once tried to use Jason by posing as the spirit of his mother and tricked him into committing a bunch of murders in Freddy's home town-"

"Sorry; can we just get a bit more background information on that front?" Cole interjected, looking in confusion at Constantine. "Freddy _sent _Jason to _his _usual killing ground? Why'd he do _that_?"

Constantine shrugged. "Freddy's power in dreams is typically based on fear; the more people are afraid of him, the more influence he can actually exert on their psyches," he explained. "In recent times, people had deliberately tried to forget Freddy in his old killing ground, and Freddy sent Jason to his old town because he figured that Jason's style of murder would remind people about him and give him the strength to come back."

Blade rolled his eyes casually at that explanation.

"Let me guess; Jason was exposed as being the guy behind it all and Freddy wasn't exactly happy about being cheated of his chance to come back?" the hybrid asked, raising an eyebrow as he studied the exorcist.

Constantine shook his head. "Half-right, really; Jason _was _exposed, but Krueger still had the strength needed to come back, so he and Jason basically kicked the crap out of each other until Jason decapitated Freddy before being dragged back into Hell himself."

"Ah," Angel said, as he took that in, musing on it for a moment before he shrugged. "Well, at least that explains why the Gathering seems to divide its forces so much; Clown's probably trying to keep Freddy and Jason from spending too much time together in case the fight starts up all over again."

"Exactly," Constantine said, nodding in confirmation at his leader before he turned to address the Coven. "There's a chance I'm wrong about the reason why he and Freddy have been kept apart, of course- it could just be dumb luck- but, in any case, I'm hoping that we might be able to use Jason's history to convince him that we genuinely understand what he's going through."

Spike snorted.

"Good luck with _that_," he said, glaring sceptically up at Constantine. "Last time he saw us, we were trying to _kill _him, remember?"

He raised an eyebrow slightly as a thought occurred to him, causing him to glare even more harshly in Constantine's direction. "Come to think of it, _you _were the guy who ended up fighting him last time; what makes you think he'll even be _willing _to listen to you?"

Constantine shrugged slightly.

"Risk I'm willing to take," he said simply, as he looked back at Spike. "If nothing else, I only really hit to wound; there's a good chance Jason'll not really consider me a threat, seeing as how I never actually tried to _kill _him."

Pausing for a moment, he then turned to look at Angel, raising an inquiringly eyebrow at his friend. "So, what do you think? The idea got potential?"

For a moment, Angel just sat there in silence, turning over what the exorcist had said to him in private contemplation, the rest of the Coven looking curiously at their leader as they waited for him to make his decision…

And then, finally, Angel nodded.

"OK; we'll give it a shot," he said, as he looked at Constantine. "Just one thing; have you got a plan about how to actually get Jason into a position where we can talk to him _without _him trying to kill us, or are we starting totally from scratch here?"

Constantine smiled in a not-entirely-successful attempt to present a reassuring manner at his friend.

"Oh, no need to worry 'bout that," he said, grinning slightly as he looked around at his teammates. "So long as we're fast, careful, and… OK, maybe very, _very_ lucky… it should all be a piece of cake."

Spike groaned slightly as Constantine began to outline his plan to the other Coven members.

"I _hate _cakes…" he muttered to himself, as he glared at the rest of the Coven, all of whom seemed perfectly content to forget their earlier doubts about the plan now that Angel had agreed to it.

_Well then_, Spike mused to himself, as he studied his friends, _guess that, when Jason tries to slit our throats, _I'll _have to be the one to stop him…_

He just hoped it didn't come to that; tough as he was, he did _not _want to go up against something capable of what Jason could do…


	9. The Path To Redemption Is Never Easy

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the members of the Coven, nor do I own the Coven's allies, or the various members of the Gathering

Feedback: I'd appreciate that, trust me

The Gathering of Supernatural Psychopaths

About an hour later- or as close as the Coven could estimate, given that none of them had watches and time seemed to flow differently in their 'base dimension' than it did down here- Constantine, Cole and Spawn were walking through the streets of the city where Leo's now-deceased charge had lived. Their reasoning was that, since the Gathering had already been active here, there was a good chance they'd continue to be active in this part of the world until there was nobody left to attack; after all, Chucky blowing up the top floors of a building _did _give them a decent bit of work to start a campaign of terror with.

So far, however, their theory didn't seem to be working; there'd been no sign of _anything _that could be related to the Gathering being present and active. The rest of the Coven had promised to keep an eye on the situation in case anything showed up on the 'scanner'- one of the many pieces of equipment their base dimension offered them, it allowed them to monitor Earth for any activity relating to such things as the Gathering or other Coven members- but, judging by the lack of any kind of activity, it didn't seem like they'd managed to find anything.

Quite frankly, if they didn't find something soon, Constantine may have to resort to voodoo to try and make contact with Pamela Voorhees and see if she'd have any luck finding her son…

Of course, he wouldn't _actually _do it; somehow, Constantine knew for a _fact _that Jason wouldn't take kindly to his mum being 'used' like that, even if it was the _real _her this time around, rather than Freddy posing as her.

"Great," Spawn said from off to the side, breaking into Constantine's train of thought. "Another bloody stake-out… I always _hated _this part of the missions when I was alive…"

"Oh yeah, you were an assassin, right?" Cole said, glancing over at Spawn inquiringly; the man once known as Al Simmons was currently 'masked', reasoning that the mask couldn't attract more attention than his natural face would at this point in their search for the Gathering. "Uh… what was that like? I mean, I was one myself, but there's got to be a difference between being a _demon _assassin and a _human _one…"

For a moment, Spawn looked like he wasn't going to reply, but, looking back at Cole, he just nodded at his ally.

"Yeah, I'll bet," he said, as he glanced back at Cole again. "Your powers included teleportation, huh?"

"Yeah… among other things, of course," Cole said, as Constantine fell back to give the two some privacy; they all knew that none of them had exactly… perfect pasts… but they didn't exactly like discussing it with each other.

"Well, trust me, teleportation's the only one I think I'd have wanted back in the day; would've made it a piece of cake to get to the targets before they realised what was up," Spawn replied, as he continued to study his surroundings anxiously, his fingers flexing as though he was literally itching to punch something. Evidently, this lack of activity from a bunch of notorious serial killers was _really _getting to the would-be general of Hell's army; he may have been trying to curb his vicious instincts, but he'd still appreciate the chance to vent them now and again.

* * *

"I don't sodding _believe _this…" Spike muttered, as he glanced over at the mats in front of him while he lay slumped in his chair. With three of the Coven dispatched on the mission to 'recruit' Jason, Angel, Blade, Illyria and Hellboy had decided to get in a bit of combat practice, with Hellboy, as the largest and strongest member, fighting the other three; Leo and Spike had volunteered to keep an eye on the fight and see if they could pinpoint the weak points in their members' defences.

At least, Leo was trying to do that; Spike, so far, just seemed to be criticising the current plan to recruit Jason.

"I mean, of _all _the things we could have done- _all _the people we could be trying to recruit for our merry little gang- and you want the mask-wearing, machete-wielding mama's boy?" Spike said, as Illyria ducked under a punch from Hellboy, giving Blade a chance to get in a slash at the red-skinned demon's arm. "What the _Hell _are you sods _thinking_, agreeing to this _bloody _plan?"

"Spike…" Leo said, glaring critically at the vampire as their four teammates weaved around each other. "You've already made your stance clear on that front; will you just _shut up_ and accept the situation as it stands?"

"Oh, accept that a disfigured loony with a massive body count is coming into the ranks?" Spike asked, glaring over at the former army medic. ""Why is _that _a good idea?"

"We accepted Spawn into our ranks pretty easily; what's the difference between the two of them?" Leo asked, glancing over critically in Spike's direction as Angel grabbed Hellboy's Right Hand of Doom in both hands, holding him down until Illyria could land a few blows on him. "What you've said about Jason could just as easily apply to Spawn, you know."

"The difference is sodding simple," Spike replied, as Hellboy broke free from Angel's grasp, hurling his leader into the nearby 'wall' as Blade lunged onto his back. "Spawn was actually bloody _interested _in making up for the hit he did _on his own_; Jason is _not_ interested in changing his ways right now, and I don't think he _ever _will be!"

"We have to give him a chance, Spike," Leo said, glaring at the vampire as Hellboy used his tail to tear Blade's sword out of his hands and throw it off to one side. "I mean, most of _us _wouldn't be here if somebody hadn't trusted us when we needed somebody to have faith; shouldn't you be willing to pay back the people who gave you that chance in the first place?"

"Yeah, alright, but, as I said, we all actually _wanted _a chance to make up for the shit we did!" Spike put in, glaring over at Leo, barely even registering the fight before the two of them as Illyria grabbed Blade's sword and hacked at Hellboy's tail, as Angel and Blade tried to get a decent grip on Hellboy's windpipe to try and knock him out. "Jason's just killing people because the stupid bastard can't take the fact that his mom left him; how're you meant get through to a mind like _that_?"

Leo just shook his head slightly.

"If there's one thing I've learned over the years, Spike," he said, as Hellboy managed to grab Blade and hurl him at Angel, "it's that redemption's never easy, if it's even _possible _for someone in the first place. If it was easy to go from bad to good… well, everyone would be doing it, I guess."

Turning to look at Spike, Leo fixed his vampire friend with a pointed glare. "And it's because of that fact, if nothing else, that we need to give people like Jason a chance to make up for what they've done; even if they don't want it… hell, even if we don't think they can _do _it… we have to give them the chance."

Spike didn't answer that point for a moment; he just sat there, staring at the battle waging before them, Blade and Angel having regained their balance and launched two simultaneous kicks at Hellboy's shoulders as Illyria vaulted over the red-skinned demon to join the others.

"Not sure I believe in redemption any more," Spike put in, glancing back at Leo.

"What?" Leo said, looking back at Spike in surprise. "Why not?"

"What Angel and I did, back before we got our souls… I just don't know if we can _ever _make up for it," Spike said, as he looked back at Leo, only briefly registering Angel and Blade vaulting Illyria up into the air to lash out at Hellboy's head once again. "I mean, I'm not quite as… well, _obsessed _over it as Angel is, but I think I know what the chances are of making up for _all _the crap I've done…"

Studying the fight unfolding before them, he sighed slightly as Hellboy attempted to grab Illyria, only for Blade to hurl one of his silver 'boomerangs' and cut the back of his ally's hand. "I just don't think averting a _hundred _apocalypses will be enough for _either _of us to make up for all the shit we did. I mean, don't tell him I said this, but Angel's done tons more for the bloody planet than I have, and he _still _doesn't think he deserves it yet; what chance have _I _got of pulling it off?"

Leo shrugged as he looked back at Spike.

"It just proves what I said to you, Spike; it's a lot harder to be good than to be evil," he said, as he briefly studied the fight before them- he had to admit, Angel and Blade were really starting to work well together- before looking back at Spike. "But that's the thing about redemption; you can't give up. If averting a hundred apocalypses doesn't work, try averting another, and then another, and… well, just keep trying until you do. It's not going to be easy, but we all have to try; even if it's only _us _who feel that we have something to make up for… it's still not always easy to redeem yourself."

For a moment, there was silence, and then Spike looked back at Leo quizzically.

"Who were they?" he asked.

"What?" Leo asked, looking back at Spike in surprise.

"You failed somebody- or at least _felt _like you failed somebody, it's hard to be sure-am I right?" Spike asked, staring inquiringly at the Whitelighter as he waved one hand in a vaguely prompting manner. "Who was it?"

For a moment, Leo looked like he was going to deny it, but then signed and nodded.

"They were old friends of mine from before I was a Whitelighter," he explained, as he looked regretfully back at Spike. "Rick and Nathan Lang; two brothers. We grew up together down in Burlingame; Nathan and I went to school together. When the Second World War came we made a deal with our recruitment officer that we would enlist as long as they kept us in the same unit; they were soldiers and I was a field medic."

Sighing slightly at the memory, Leo briefly looked at the battle before them- Angel was currently apparently trying to throw Hellboy over his shoulder, the demon's left, flesh-and-blood arm clasped in his hands- before turning back to Spike. "It all went OK until the Battle of Guadalcanal- where I met Angel briefly- when Rick was injured in an attack. Nathan begged me to help Rick, but I felt that, at the time, I was needed more on the battlefield, helping those who _didn't _have medical attention at the time. As soon as I'd moved away from the tent they were in…"

Leo swallowed slightly as he looked back at Spike. "A bomb hit it and killed them instantly."

"Bugger," Spike said, looking apologetically at Leo. "And you blamed yourself for that, huh? Thought you didn't have the right to leave a friend to help a bunch of strangers?"

"For a long time," Leo said, nodding at Spike. "It was only last year that I was convinced I made the right choice; I'd rather not talk about the _how _of it, but events happened that convinced me to accept Piper's attempts to take me to the Reunion of the Battle of the Guadalcanal, and I met all the soldiers who I'd helped save at the battle itself, as well as all their families."

He smiled slightly at the memory as he looked back at the vampire. "If I'd died in the tent… who'd have been there to save those people? Who'd have been there to give all those families their chance at life? If I'd died… all those people wouldn't have existed."

Spike nodded.

"Good point," he said, as he looked back at the Whitelighter. He was silent for a moment, and then spoke again. "Still a part of you that can't forgive yourself for it, though, isn't there?"

"No… not entirely… not any more," Leo said, as he looked back at Spike before shrugging. "Thanks to Piper and her sisters, I think I'm past that part of my life…"

He paused and sighed. "But, these days, that's one of the main reasons I remain a Whitelighter; so that, someday, I'll feel like I've done enough good that I actually _can _forgive myself for it."

As they turned their attention back to the practice fight before them, the two men were silent, but it was a thoughtful silence.

_Maybe the bugger _will _be able to be saved_… Spike mused to himself, as Illyria kicked Hellboy in the tail just as Blade punched him in the gut. _Guess we'll just have to find out the hard way_.

* * *

Meanwhile, back on Earth, the members of the Coven who were searching for Jason were continuing their earlier conversation about their pasts.

"It wasn't all fun and games, trust me," Cole said, as the three of them continued to walk, although they continued to make sure nobody came close enough to them to overhear their conversation; they didn't want to attract any awkward questions. "For some of my tougher opponents, I really needed to take my time before I tried anything; I couldn't always just teleport in to kill them and expect that to be all I'd need to do to win the battle."

Spawn shrugged.

"At least you could just go for your _target_ and leave it at that," he said, his cloak shifting slightly behind him as they walked. He could get around without the cloak, of course, but it had been decided that keeping the cloak active would make it easier for them to hide if the need arose; its 'cloaking abilities' could be a definite advantage if the need arose. "Me, I always had to worry about taking out civilians by accident; even if my bosses didn't care about shit like that- and trust me, Wynne would probably have sold out his own _mother _if it meant his own ends would be furthered- _I _sure as hell did…"

"Hey, at least you actually _cared _about people getting caught in the crossfire," Cole said, as he looked back over at Spawn. "I killed hundreds of people during my time as Belthazor, and, until I met Phoebe, I never even allowed my human half _any _kind of influence on my behaviour…"

For a moment, there was silence as the two former assassins contemplated what had just been said, and then Spawn sighed slightly.

"We're a real pair, aren't we?" he said, glancing back at Cole, a slightly amused edge to his voice as though he was smiling at something. "The human assassin who wished he'd had a few extra powers, and the demon assassin who wished he'd felt a bit _more_ guilty about what he did back then."

Cole chuckled slightly as he looked back at Spawn.

"Guess it's true what they say; nobody's perfect," he said, shrugging casually as he looked at Spawn. "All we can do is-"

A loud scream suddenly tore through the air, apparently coming from further down a street they were presently approaching, leaving all three of the men briefly frozen as they exchanged anxious glances with each other.

"Think that's who we're after?" Cole asked Constantine.

"If it isn't the Gathering, I'll be _very _surprised," Constantine replied, grimly raising the Holy Shotgun as the three of began to hurry towards the street. "Just remember, if it isn't Jason, just take down whoever you can and leave them alone; if he isn't here, given that he's one of the bigger ones, we can probably manage to provoke Clown or whoever's in charge into sending Jason down here to deal with us."

"Good a plan as any right now," Spawn shrugged, his mask already 'sliding' back into place as he rounded another corner…

And froze as he saw just _who_- or should that be _what_- was standing on the other side.

The Creeper, its coat and trousers discarded, leaving it looking like some demented combination of Frankenstein's monster, an overgrown vampire bat, and (Given that its skin almost looked like it had been _burned_) Spawn himself.

Alongside the Creeper stood the pale-skinned, needle-faced sucker that Clown had called Pinhead, and Jason Voorhees, standing in front of a large, burning building, the flames blazing merrily behind the three notorious killers. Only the lower floors were on fire, which explained why the three of them hadn't noticed it earlier; in the alleys, and at this time of night, smoke wasn't exactly an easy thing to see.

The Creeper seemed to be tossing something back into the fire after holding it close to its face (It looked like the sucker had been _eating _whatever it threw back), and Jason's machete seemed to have fresh blood on it, suggesting that they'd only just finished slaughtering the inhabitants of the building. Even as Spawn cursed the fact that they'd arrived too late to save any of the Gathering's intended victims, he was already going over what facing this particular threesome meant for their plan to capture Jason and win him over to their side.

On the one hand, it looked like the mission should be fairly straightforward; all they had to do was get Spawn or Cole close enough to Jason to teleport him out of there, and then they could take the situation from there as it developed.

On the _other _side of the proverbial coin, they had no real idea _what _Pinhead was- they hadn't had time to send Constantine off to ask Midnite for further information on the Gathering's newest members yet- and, based on Spawn's previous encounter with the sucker in question, that 'Creeper' thing did _not _seem like it would be easy to pin down, either literally _or _metaphorically.

Plus, there was the fact that it could do something that _none _of the Coven could do, now that the vampire Batman (Who Spawn had learned about thanks to a brief conversation with Angel and Blade) was no longer one of their members; the sucker could actually _fly_.

Therefore, since they didn't know whether either of Jason's current companions would be able to do something to stop them just teleporting Jason away- and Spawn, for one, did _not _want to learn whether or not they could do anything the hard way- they'd have to at least knock Pinhead and the Creeper out before teleporting Jason away if they wanted to be sure of getting away unscratched.

Under the mask, as he heard Cole and Constantine come around the corner behind him, Spawn allowed himself a brief smile.

In some ways, the Creeper's power of flight was actually a disadvantage for the Gathering.

At least with the Creeper he had a more than pretty good idea of exactly where to hit to make sure that the sucker was _really _weakened by his attack.

If there was one thing he'd learned in his time as an assassin, it was to eliminate his _strongest _opponents first; that way, he'd not only not have to deal with the foe later, when he was tired and less capable, but he'd demoralise his other foes and leave them feeling more afraid of him.

Right now, he was probably the most powerful member of the Coven available; it would be up to him to keep the Creeper down while Constantine tried to get through to Jason (He'd made it clear from the start that he wanted to have a chance to _talk _to the Crystal Lake Slasher rather than just grab him away without even trying to reason with him first).

"I'll take the Creeper!" he yelled at the others, as he raised his arms and sprouted the blades that were rapidly becoming a familiar part of his new life, green eyes flashing as he stared at the thin form of the Creeper before him. "You guys stick to the plan and _move_!"

Not giving his allies the chance to respond, Spawn leapt forward, his arms stretched forward as his cape 'billowed' around him, automatically extending to form a basic kind of wing as he struck the Creeper, sending the creature flying back into the burning building like some avenging angel.


	10. Round Three: A Bad Day to be a Head

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the members of the Coven, nor do I own the Coven's allies, or the various members of the Gathering

Feedback: I'd appreciate that, trust me

The Gathering of Supernatural Psychopaths

As soon as he was inside the building- gratefully noting that the flames were just as intense inside as they'd seemed from the outside- Spawn, still 'gliding' through the air, 'shoved' the Creeper to the floor. At the same time, he used the combined momentum of the shove to send himself flying back to land on his feet, facing his foe with a wicked grin on his face under the mask that now covered his face, his eyes gleaming red under the mask in anticipation of the fight he was about to have before him.

Glancing over himself and his foe, the man who was once Al Simmons was pleased to note that his theory about the effectiveness of fire on the Creeper had apparently been correct. His costume seemed to be protecting him from the fire- after the fires of Hell, anything else was probably a walk in the park- but the Creeper's wings already looked slightly singed around the edges, and its feet were smoking as it glared at Spawn. It didn't actually _show _that it was in any pain, of course- given that it was part of a group that called its own members psychopaths, it was possible they barely even registered pain- but Spawn was prepared to overlook that; his plan of attack seemed to be doing _some _kind of damage to it, at least, and that was enough.

Right now, his main objective wasn't to kill the thing, even if he could get a chance to try some of the more traditional methods such as decapitation; he just had to keep it occupied until Cole could get Jason away from here and the Coven could see what they could do about bringing the Crystal Lake Slasher over to _their _side in the upcoming battle.

As far as he was concerned, if this guy could take a great deal of damage, all the better; he enjoyed the chance to give his powers a decent work-out.

"OK then, asshole," Spawn stated, glaring at the Creeper with a broad grin as he raised his arms, the blades sprouting from them instantly. "You had the advantage last time we slugged it out; care to try for _another _piece of me?"

Letting off a screeching sound in reply, the Creeper dived towards Spawn, its claws outstretched as it glared wickedly in his direction, mouth open as though eager to tear a chunk out of Spawn's armour with his disturbingly sharp teeth.

Spawn reacted as soon as his opponent's feet had left the ground. Instinctively, the chains that were part of his costume lashed out to grab the Creeper's wrists and send the monstrous Frankenstein-bat-zombie 'hybrid' hurling off in another direction, watching with grim satisfaction as the creature was burned by the flames that blazed around them. Even as it landed, the creature was already spinning around to confront Malebolgia's would-be general, only for Spawn to raise his arms and blast off a burst of green energy that sent the Creeper flying back once again.

Despite the fact that the Creeper had remained on its feet throughout this confrontation- well, on its feet or on its wings- Spawn allowed himself a small grin as he launched a couple of small blades from his arms, slashing the creature's shoulders as they tore past his opponent to crash into the wall.

As the Creeper screamed in agony, clutching at his bloodied shoulders as he stared at the former assassin in front of him, Spawn grinned as he raised his hands before him, flexing his fingers eagerly as he subconsciously activated the various daggers that his suit was capable of forming.

Ever since he'd acquired these powers- particularly after his little 'smorgasboard' in Hell when he'd absorbed the powers of most of the other Hellspawn down there, giving him access to a virtually _limitless _amount of power- he'd been itching to have an opponent who could actually provide him with a genuine _challenge_, rather than a short scuffle of some kind. Ever since he'd defeated Violator in their last encounter, he hadn't encountered a single foe he'd really _needed _to use his powers on; most of his opponents needed nothing more than a few hits from his enhanced strength and they were out for the count.

This Creeper sucker, though… he had a _lot _more staying power than most of his bad guys.

It would probably take a lot to put him down.

Spawn was looking forward to it.

* * *

Outside the building, Cole and Constantine were already moving into position to attack their respective foes. Constantine had already decided to target Jason if a fight broke out while they were down there, hoping that he'd manage to get through to the Crystal Lake Slasher _before _they had to take him back to their base, which meant that Cole would be left slugging it out with Pinhead.

Cole had only just reached the point where he was standing in front of the bastard, and he _already _hated what he was going to have to do; in his experience, anything that had _this _much spikes on his face could be nothing but bad news.

Even in the demon underworld, the Cenobites were regarded as bad news; they were typically amoral monsters who wouldn't hesitate to just kill anyone in their paths in the pursuit of their own goals of experimenting with pain and torture. Even some demons could be bargained with if you knew what they wanted and could offer a quicker solution; the Cenobites typically just killed everybody in their path no matter what you tried to do.

Still, that wasn't his main problem right now; his ability to negotiate with a bloodthirsty demon weren't the reason he'd been allowed back into the Coven. He was there because he had a lot of powers that were good in a fight and believed in their cause; it was time he made use of those abilities.

His main problem was just staying alive long enough in a fight with this guy for Constantine to make effective contact with Jason; once they had an opportunity to get Jason away from these guys, they could just escape this fight and take care of Pinhead and his 'colleagues' later.

_So_, Cole thought to himself, as he raised one hand to summon a golden energy ball, _I'd best make sure to keep this a _long-range _battle- I do _not _want that sucker getting his hands on me- and do what I can about finishing this SOON._

No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than Cole had hurled the energy ball towards Pinhead, smiling grimly as the Cenobite was sent staggering back a few steps from the impact of the ball in his chest.

Refusing to give his foe a chance to strike back, Cole lashed out with another ball, increasing the power of the attack for the second attempt, only slightly surprised to note that Pinhead appeared equally capable of taking the next blow; if the Cenobites were that easy to stop, they would probably have been taken out long ago.

Of course, the _problem_ lay in the fact that Pinhead was apparently remarkably fast at recovering from earlier attacks; Cole had encountered demons who could survive energy balls in the past, but they'd always taken more _time _to recover than Pinhead seemed to need. No sooner had Cole struck him with that last energy ball, then he was reaching into the air as a large, sharp blade appeared in his hands, even as he raised hand to send a razor-sharp chain hurtling in Cole's direction.

Cole managed to avoid the chain by ducking- he was reluctant to orb any distance right now, in case Pinhead managed to get up-close and take him by surprise for those brief moments where he wasn't aware of his surroundings- but it was clear that his opponent had only ever been intending to distract him with that attack rather than kill him. Lowering his arm as the sword he'd been 'summoning' earlier fully materialized, the Cenobite glared at Cole with an expression that somehow combined anger with indifference as he prepared to throw the blade at the Goldlighter.

It was the indifference that really got to Cole in the end. He could have coped with anger, and even the chain at least showed he was doing a good job at fighting Pinhead, but the guy's nonchalant attitude towards the fight, giving Cole the impression that his foe just regarded him as a minor annoyance that needed to be stomped out… like he was an _insect _rather than a _Goldlighter_, just got to him.

He didn't come back from the dead- on no less than _three _separate occasions, he might add- to be treated like he was an inconvenience, rather than a man desperately seeking redemption for all that shit he'd done when his entire body had been 'hijacked' by dark magic.

He may not have been as powerful as he once was, but he was _not _a pushover.

It was time he made sure that Pinhead realised that.

Concentrating his anger and resentment into his energy, he raised his hands and launched a massive bolt of golden energy towards the leather-clad man, nodding in grim satisfaction as the bolt burned a hole in Pinhead's coat and made him drop the blade. A quick, red-hot burst of energy towards the sword left it a mere heap of metal on the floor beside Pinhead, practically useless in a fight and literally _fused _to the stonework it had landed on.

"Eat _that_, sucker!" Cole yelled, as he watched Pinhead stare at the hole in his shirt in an almost puzzled manner, as though he couldn't quite believe that someone had done that to him.

Before Pinhead could try for another attack, Cole had lunged towards his foe, pinning- no pun intended- his opponent to the ground as he launched a powerful uppercut at the Cenobite's face. The pins that had given Pinhead his name dug painfully into Cole's knuckles, leaving thin lines of blood along his hands, but he tried not to focus on that and devote his attention to the matter at hand, hoping that his supernatural healing would be enough to keep the damage to a minimum.

He had the advantage in the fight now, and he was _not _going to let it go because he was in a bit of pain-

The Cenobite lashed up with a large blade in one hand in an admittedly rather successful-seeming attempt to impale Cole in the stomach, leaving the Goldlighter with no other option but to orb a short distance away from Pinhead. As soon as Cole's weight was gone, his foe was free to get back up onto his feet, the blade drawn as Pinhead glared over in Cole's direction.

"You want a piece of me?" Cole asked, raising his own right hand to summon an energy ball, muscles tensed as he glared in Pinhead's direction. "Come and _get _me!"

As soon as the words were out, he'd launched the energy ball at Pinhead, knocking the knife out of the Cenobite's hand, vapourising the weapon even as Pinhead's hand blistered and burned from the energy ball.

As soon as the blade had fallen from his opponent's hand, Cole had lunged forward, his hands glowing with golden energy- he'd been itching to try this particular power for a while now- and lashed out at his foe with a powerful punch, sending Pinhead staggering back, the pins in his head melting slightly from the heat of Cole's punch.

The 'Gold Punch', as Cole thought of it, wasn't the most effective of the many fighting techniques his new powers gave him. If nothing else, you had to be up-close to your opponent to use it, and in the majority of cases- particularly since he intended to stay with the Coven- his foes had so much raw strength available that such an action wouldn't have been in his best interests. However, in Pinhead's case, his main powers in combat were based on speed and endurance, rather than his raw strength, which gave Cole a _slightly _better chance than he might have had in other cases.

As he prepared another magically-charged punch, he could only hope that this strategy would pay off soon enough for him to actually _survive _the fight. He only had a limited amount of magical energy he could draw on at any one time before he became too tired to continue, and if Pinhead could take more than what he had available…

_No_.

He wouldn't consider that; thinking the worst wouldn't get him anywhere but _dead_ in the current situation.

He'd just have to try right now and hope for the best.

* * *

As Cole moved into position to tackle Pinhead, Constantine found himself looking at Jason, and swallowed anxiously.

Now that he was actually _here_, he suddenly realised that there was a lot more riding on his plan than he'd expected.

More specifically, his ability to actually have the _time _to talk to Jason before the guy could slash his throat open.

This wasn't going to be easy, but he had to at least _try_ and get through to Jason at the moment; diving into a fight with him right now wouldn't help anybody.

"Jason," he said, taking a deep breath as he slung the Holy Shotgun over his shoulder on its strap, the better to appear non-threatening as he looked at the killer before him, "you have to listen to me. I know that you've had a hard life, I know that you've experience terrible things that nobody should have to deal with, and I know that you have no reason to listen to a word I say… but you have to believe me; I'm _not _your enemy."

For the moment, the man who had been responsible for the creation of the so-called 'Jason Strain' just stood and stared at Constantine, apparently unconcerned about either attacking Constantine or walking away from him.

Hoping against hope that his words were getting through to Jason, Constantine took a tentative step forward, keeping his eyes fixed on Jason as he continued to speak. "I know that you hurt when you lost your mother, and I can understand your desire for revenge on a world that has given you no reason to care about _anybody _in it, but, trust me… you're not the only person to feel that way."

As Jason still stood in front of him, silent and contemplative, Constantine took a deep breath before continuing to speak. "In fact, I've felt that way myself, once or-"

Jason suddenly made a brief grunting noise- that sound was probably as close as he would ever come to a roar of anger, given the poor condition of his vocal chords after everything that had happened to him- and lunged towards Constantine, machete raised as though to hack at Constantine's arm.

Cursing at himself for his ill-chosen words- in Jason's mind, someone like Constantine, a man who looked and seemed perfectly normal, would _have _to be lying about having felt the way Jason felt at times- Constantine dived desperately out of the path of the machete as it grazed the area where his arm had been a few seconds ago. As Jason slashed out at him, Constantine could only duck back and pray that Cole managed to deal with Pinhead soon enough to make a difference.

If he was going to have _any _chance of stopping Jason's current attempts to kill him long enough to talk to the 'Killer of Crystal Lake', he needed to have some back-up _fast_…

Of course, this wasn't going to work so long as he was focusing on trying to stay out of the way of Jason's machete. Cole had Pinhead to keep him occupied in a fight for the moment and Spawn was apparently still busy with the Creeper, so he was unlikely to get any help from them any time soon, and with Jason trying to force him to do a Darth Maul impression, he couldn't spare the time to even _try _and call for assistance from the rest of the Coven.

He was on his own, trying to appeal to the humanity in a foe that would be perfectly 'happy'- or at least would be satisfied; whether Jason really felt any emotion about what he did any more was a valid question- to kill him as soon as he got the chance to land a decent blow with an extremely sharp machete.

Even if Constantine had been the kind of man to see the best in everyone no matter _what _they were trying to do in him- and he'd become an almost natural cynic over the years, given his near-resignation to his apparently inevitable sentence to Hell- he wouldn't have held out much hope of effectively making his point before he was hit by Jason's machete in a potentially fatal attack. If nothing else, he'd have to actually stop trying to dodge Jason's blows to effectively make his point- he was never good at making speeches or witty banter in a fight, mainly due to him lacking the raw strength some of his new colleagues could have used in this kind of situation- and he was definitely _not _prepared to take a chance that his foe would stop trying to attack him long enough for him to come up with an effective line of argument.

If the Coven's resident psychic/exorcist/detective didn't come up with something effective to stop this guy in a matter of minutes, he was going to be in _serious _trouble…

* * *

"Take _that_!" Spawn roared in triumph, as he launched another 'dagger' at the creature standing before him, his mood only slightly dampened by the Creeper deflecting the attempted attack; he'd been expecting it to gain the focus to fight back sooner or later. As the Creeper stared at Spawn, it spread its wings, as though preparing to attack its foe from the 'air' once again, Spawn seized his chance to try a _different _method of attack- specifically, something he'd been wanting to do since he'd first seen the Creeper's wings.

Lashing out with his chains, he smiled grimly as the chains speared straight through the Creeper's wings, spreading out as soon as they'd passed through his opponent's wings. Even as the Creeper screamed in pain and rage, the flames burning at his limbs and wings, Spawn was lunging forward, the blades on his arms outstretched as he flexed the chains to bring himself closer to his target, grinning under his mask as he prepared to strike at something that he could only describe as resembling the blood-thirsty offspring of Frankenstein and Dracula.

If he recalled Constantine's 'briefing' on the creature correctly, the Creeper was only meant to wake up for twenty-three days every twenty-three years, but the Gathering appeared to have interrupted the cycle when they 'recruited' the Creeper as a member.

As far as Spawn was concerned, he was going to make sure that the Creeper wished it had _stayed _asleep this time around, rather than responding to the Gathering's 'wake-up call'.

Almost as soon as that thought finished crossing his mind, Spawn reached his target, and, in a matter of moments, the blades that had extended from his arms had sliced through the Creeper's neck, sending his opponent's head flying off to the side from the sheer force of the impact, the Creeper's body being simultaneously thrown back by a rapid kick to the chest that sent it crashing into the opposite wall.

Grinning, Spawn stepped back, retracting his chains from the Creeper's wings- now badly torn from his initial attack on the creature- as he let the body fall to the burning floor, allowing the wings to slowly burn up as the rest of the body turned increasingly black and charred around the edges from the fire.

"How do you like _that_, asshole?" he said, grinning broadly as he stared at the downed Creeper before him, the head already collapsing into black ash a short distance away as the flames became ever more powerful. "You _really _thought you could-"

Then the Creeper's body, headless and with burning wings- leapt up and, before Spawn could respond, the Creeper had grabbed the still-active blades on his arms and literally _snapped _them off Spawn's arms. Even as Spawn's mask folded away to allow him to instinctively scream in pain, the Creeper, holding its new weapons as though they were daggers, slashed out with the former assassin's stolen blades, tearing through Spawn's neck and sending his head flying up into the air.

Tossing its improvised daggers off to one side, the Creeper's body reached up, grabbed Spawn's flying head out of the sky as it began to fall back down, and placed the head on the stump where its neck had once been. As green and red energy burst from the narrow seam where the Creeper's neck joined Spawn's head, the head's mouth twisted into a malicious smile as it felt fragments of Spawn's power spread through its own body.

If the Creeper was capable of actual _thought_, rather than mainly operating on instinct as it killed, it would have been eagerly anticipating the damage it could do with the powers it would soon 'acquire' from this new body-part.

* * *

As he ducked away from another swipe of Jason's machete, Constantine's gaze briefly shifted over to check on Cole's progress with Pinhead. He noted, with a mixture of relief and worry, that both figures were still standing, currently trading punches at a surprising rate, neither one looking quite read to go down for the count yet.

On the one hand, he had no idea how long Pinhead could keep fighting before he needed to 'shut down' or something similar; remarkably little was actually _known_ about the Cenobites.

On the other hand, he knew very well that Cole could _not _keep up that kind of pace for long before he drained his magical reserves, leaving him even more vulnerable to Pinhead than he was at the moment- and, in all fairness to his resurrected ally, Cole wasn't exactly doing all that good against Pinhead at full strength.

_Time to try something _new _against that sucker_, Constantine thought to himself, as he checked his back to make sure the Holy Shotgun was still there before he sprang into action. Finding it there, he smiled, rolled back out of Jason's way, and then pulled out the Shotgun to point it in Pinhead's direction.

"_Cole_!" he yelled at his ally, who was just preparing to launch another punch at Pinhead. "_Duck and roll_!"

To his credit, Cole didn't even question Constantine's reasons for giving such an order; he reacted instantly, 'powering down' his glowing hand and leaping off to the side, giving Constantine a clear shot at Pinhead's face.

"Asta la vista, _Pinny_!" Constantine yelled, as he pulled the trigger on the Holy Shotgun. Instantly, Pinhead was sent reeling back as the blessed bullets struck him directly in the head. Before the Cenobite could get back to his feet, Constantine had dashed over to stand above his fallen form and fired two more blasts, at practically point-blank range, into Pinhead's skull, leaving his head a massive, gaping 'wound' that not even his remarkable healing abilities would manage to cure any time soon.

Spinning the Holy Shotgun once in his hand, Constantine grinned down casually at his fallen foe as he glanced over at Cole, a broad grin on his face.

"Can we kick ass, or _can we _kick _ass_?" he asked, cocking a casual eyebrow at the Goldlighter.

"Oh, we can kick _ass _all right!" Cole said, holding up one hand as though to give Constantine a high five before he noticed the blood still trickling between his knuckles and lowered it. "Sorry… hands are still a bit tender… got caught up in the moment…"

Constantine shrugged.

"Fair enough," he said, before he glanced over his friend's shoulder and saw Jason approaching, machete raised as though he was going to slice Cole's left arm off. "Uh, Cole? Jason?"

"Wh-" Cole began, before he stopped, sighed in a bored manner, and spun around to face Jason. Before the Crystal Lake Slasher could slice at Cole with his machete, the Goldlighter had raised his hands and launched a fine golden 'powder' into his would-be foe's face. As soon as the 'powder' hit Jason's mask, the man- if he could be called that after what had happened to him- blinked, looked at the two men before him in confusion, and then fell forward onto his front, totally unconscious.

Looking down at the body before them, Constantine sighed slightly.

_Sorry about that, Jason_, he mused, as he crouched down to examine the body of the man they'd come down here to 'retrieve'. _Trust me; if there'd been an easier way, I'd have taken it…_

"AAARRGGHH!" Cole suddenly screamed, as a burst of green energy suddenly appeared out of the corner of Constantine's eye, striking his friend in the chest; if Constantine hadn't been crouching down at the time, he'd probably have been hit by the blast himself.

_What the_…? Constantine asked himself, leaping to his feet and drawing the Holy Shotgun even as the glow faded from his vision, Cole collapsing to the ground beside him at the same time.

No sooner had Constantine back on his feet, however, than something passed rapidly by him, striking him with such force that he was sent tumbling back to the ground, the Holy Shotgun falling from his grasp as he hit the ground.

Rolling over, Constantine turned to look in the direction of whatever it was that had just attacked him, and his eyes widened in horror.

It was the Creeper.

Specifically, it was the Creeper with its head gone…

…_and Spawn's head on its neck_!

_Oh crap_, Constantine thought to himself.

Judging by the expression of murderous glee on what had been once been Spawn's face, the Creeper was _clearly _in control of the body facing him at the moment- and, based on the green glow that surrounded the Creeper's hands, it had acquired some of Spawn's powers as well.

_So_, Constantine thought to himself, as he stared at the creature before him, desperately trying to get his breath back, _I'm on my own, unarmed and practically defenceless, against an unkillable monster who eats people and can apparently survive getting its fucking _head _cut off without much difficulty, and my only allies are either dead, unconscious, or unconscious and of uncertain allegiance, to say the least?_

Glaring at the Creeper before him, Constantine smiled grimly to himself, as a resolution settled in his mind.

If he was going to die here and now, he was going to die _fighting_.

* * *

Inside the burning building, unheard and unnoticed by the other combatants, as Spawn's body lay in the fire, his armour protecting his remains from the heat- after the fires of Hell itself, nothing else really compared to it- a faint green glow surrounded his neck, before slowly but surely spreading from there to surround the area where his head had once been.

If anyone had been there to watch it, they would had been awed to see the sight before them; from nothing but air, the former assassin's head was actually growing _back_, regenerating from the skull and neck upwards and outwards.

The bones were not only restored already, but they continued to_ grow _new flesh and muscle, a brilliant green glow spreading along the head as Spawn's powers healed the damage that the Creeper had done.

It only took moments for Spawn to do something that so many immortal beings in the world regarded as impossible; regrow his entire head in a matter of no more than a few minutes.

"Ouch…" the former Al Simmons groaned as he clutched at his head, shaking it slightly as though trying to clear it. "_That _wasn't pretty…"

Then he heard the sound of an energy burst from outside- more specifically, the sound of one of _his _energy bursts- and swore under his breath.

Since it was unlikely that the Gathering had managed to recruit _another _Hellspawn, that could only mean that the Creeper had acquired his powers after the sucker recently 'stole' his head (Somehow or other, Spawn could actually _remember _the bastard putting his… his _old head_ on his fucking _neck_).

_Well then_, Spawn mused to himself, flexing his fingers eagerly as he glanced through the hall in the wall that he had crashed through earlier, _time to show that guy why you _don't _steal from Al Simmons_…

* * *

Even as Constantine began to dash towards the Holy Shotgun as it lay a few feet from him, he knew that it wouldn't do him any good even if he _did _manage to grab it in time. He may have been good when it came to dealing with the demons of _his _world, but an immortal like the Creeper, with no apparent weaknesses and superhuman strength, speed and stamina, capable of apparently surviving even _decapitation _without experiencing any long-term problems?

He wouldn't have a prayer in holding it off alone long enough for Cole to regain consciousness; that blow the Creeper had just given his ally did _not _look like it would heal soon enough for the Goldlighter to help him escape.

_This is it_… he thought to himself, as he saw the Creeper raise a glowing green hand in his direction. _I die… but at least I'll die like a _man_… on my feet, trying to keep fighting…_

Then, much to his surprise, a _massive _beam of brilliant green energy, almost as thick as a full-grown man, struck the Creeper directly in the chest, sending it flying into the wall of the nearby building with such force that the wall literally _cracked _from the force of the impact.

Constantine blinked in shock.

After seeing the Creeper's 'new look', he definitely hadn't expected _this _to happen…

"_Spawn_?" he said, as the Coven's newest ally walked up to stand beside him, the familiar large red cloak sweeping around behind him as he smiled at his friends. "But… but the _Creeper_ had your fucking _head_?!"

Spawn shrugged.

"Turns out the ability to regenerate limbs is one of those powers this thing gives me," he said, tapping his armour with a smile on his face. "Don't know how, and I _definitely _don't want to make a habit of it- neck still smarts from where that bastard slashed at me- but the sucker actually lets me grow a new_ head_ if I need it."

Despite the fact that they were still in a combat situation, he chuckled to himself as his cape spread out around him, giving him the momentary of appearance of having massive, bat-like wings coming from his shoulders. "Far as I'm concerned, it looks like it's going to be _pretty _hard to kill me _now_."

"Yikes…" Constantine muttered to himself as he stared at his still-new friend, trying to process what he'd just learned about the Coven's newest member. He'd known that Spawn was powerful- Hell wouldn't have made a man it was intending to be a general in its army a _weak _fighter- but knowing that the guy could actually grow a new _head _if he needed it…

He was _damn _grateful that Spawn was on _their _side.

"Now then," Spawn said, grinning casually as he turned to look at the Creeper, which was already getting back onto its feet, Pinhead already healed and walking over to stand beside it with a casual smirk on his face, "we _could _do the fight thing all over again, but, seeing how Cole's already got Jason down for the count for the moment, there's really no need for us to stick around any longer."

He shrugged in a nonchalant manner as the Creeper raised its hands, evidently preparing to fire off another 'energy burst' at its foes. "So, sorry to be rude, but we've gotta run."

Before either of the 'Supernatural Psychopaths' before them could attack, Spawn's cloak had spread out from his back, gathering over Constantine, Cole and Jason as it did so, before it suddenly 'dived' back towards Spawn, pulling his allies with it. As the two killers watched in surprise, the bulging cloak was suddenly engulfed in green, flame-like energy, which vanished as fast as it appeared as the entire cloak- and all the figures 'contained' within it- vanished from right in front of their would-be killers.


	11. Saving Jason Voorhees

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the members of the Coven, nor do I own the Coven's allies, or the various members of the Gathering

Feedback: I'd appreciate that, trust me

The Gathering of Supernatural Psychopaths

The moment the red-and-green flame-like energy that the Coven had already come to associate with their newest member appeared in the middle of the 'room' that served as their base, the other members of the team were stepping back to give their allies a decent amount of space to 'arrive' in. As the Coven watched, a tall red figure appeared in the centre of the room, resembling an overgrown cigar of some kind, and then opened out to reveal Spawn standing in the centre of the room, John Constantine crouched on the ground beside him as the unconscious forms of Cole and Jason collapsed to the ground beside the former General of Hell's army.

"_Ouch_," Spike muttered, wincing briefly as he glanced at the large burn on Cole's chest, before glancing back at Spawn and Constantine. "Things get ugly?"

"You could say that," Constantine said, standing up and flexing his neck, trying to ignore the slight pain in his head and back as he grimly looked down at the unconscious forms lying before him and his fellow Coven members. "Come on; we need to get Jason secured before he wakes up. I may want to get him to trust us, but we're not going to get anywhere if we're trying to stop him slicing my _head_ off at the same time as I'm trying to have a word with him."

As Illyria and Leo hurried forward to pick Cole up and carry him over to a nearby chair, Angel nodded in confirmation of Constantine's request and turned to look at Spawn.

"Think you can use your chains to tie him up?" he asked his new friend, casually indicating the dazed form of Jason lying behind him and his allies; none of the other Coven members had any powers that could be used to 'tie' Jason down for any length of time.

"Yeah, should be easy enough," Spawn said, nodding dismissively at the vampire even as he turned to look at their 'prisoner' (Constantine might consider him a potential ally, but until they'd had a chance to talk to Jason, Angel would consider him a prisoner). As soon as Spawn was positioned directly in front of Jason, his chains lashed out to surround Jason, hauling the Crystal Lake Slasher back up to his feet, before tying him up to a nearby post (Once again, it would appear that their 'base' had provided them with exactly what they needed) near the centre of the room.

As the rest of the Coven watched, further chains leapt from Spawn's body and wrapped themselves around the masked figure before them, binding Jason all the tighter to the newly-appeared pole. In a matter of minutes, Jason was tied tightly to the pole, his entire body fully restrained by Spawn's various chains.

"Uh… are we sure _that _isn't going to aggravate him?" Spike asked, indicating the chains as he glanced anxiously over at Spawn. "I mean, if I was him, I would _definitely _be pissed off at being tied up like that…"

"I've left him enough room to move his arms and legs a bit; he just can't get away from the pole," Spawn explained, looking back at his new prisoner as he spoke. "I figured that we don't want to give him any excuse to get _more_ ticked off at us, even if we don't want him to get out and try to attack us before we're ready for him."

"Sensible enough balance, Al," Constantine said, nodding appreciatively at the former general of Hell's army before he turned back to face Jason. "Now, you guys should probably get back right now; if I'm going to convince Jason to listen to me, it might be more convenient if he just has me to focus on."

"Seems fair enough to me," Blade said, glancing back at Angel, who nodded in approval.

"OK," the vampire said, looking over at Constantine, "we'll stay out of your way; just so long as you understand that, if he shows _any _sign of being about to attack you, we'll step in to stop him no matter _what _kind of progress you think you've made."

"Gotcha," Constantine said, nodding in understanding at the Coven's leader before turning back to the masked man before him, a grim expression on his face as Jason began to stir. Shooting one last, almost warning glance at the other members of the Coven, Constantine nodded gratefully as they stepped back, out of Jason's line of sight, before he turned once more to face the man he'd risked his life to 'recruit'.

As Jason stared up at him, his one remaining working eye slowly opening, the supernatural private detective took a deep breath and stepped forward, both actions instantly resulting in Jason's eyes focusing on him.

"Jason, you have to listen to me," Constantine said, staring anxiously at the bound killer before him, simultaneously waving his fellow Coven members further back, out of the other 'man's' line of sight; Jason needed to focus solely on _him _if Constantine was ever going to make his point. "I know you've had a terrible life… I know you think nobody else can understand what you've gone through growing up… I know you probably feel that only paying the world back for the pain it's caused you can ever make you feel better… but you have to understand something; as hard as it may be for you to believe me… I know what you're going through."

Once again, Jason glared at Constantine in a manner that suggested he wanted to kill the exorcist for _daring _to suggest that he could ever understand the kind of life that Jason had been forced to endure. To Constantine's credit, he didn't even blink at the intensity of the gaze that was directed at him; he just stepped forward slightly once more, raising his arms to pull down his sleeves.

"Look at these," Constantine said, indicating two thick, rough lines located over the veins in his wrists; even from their current distance, the rest of the Coven could clearly see that the lines were of a significant size.

_Ouch…_ Angel thought to himself, as he stared at the clearly self-inflicted injuries on Constantine's wrists. _He _really _wanted to kill himself when he made those…_

"You know what these are, right, Jason?" Constantine asked, looking back at the Coven's potential recruit as he continued speaking. "These are self-inflicted."

Jason's eye widened in what could almost have been an incredulous manner as he stared at the injured wrist held before him. For a moment, the eye narrowed as though it was studying the wounds before its owner, but then Jason's shoulders, tensed-up as though about to break free, relaxed, the almost incredulous gleam back in Jason's eye as he turned to look at Constantine's face once more.

"You want to know why I did this to myself?" Constantine continued, indicating the injuries on his wrists as he began to role his sleeves up once more, his eyes remaining fixed on Jason as he continued to speak. "It's because, like you… nobody really understood me."

For a moment, Jason looked like he was about to attempt to attack Constantine all over again, but it appeared as though he was a bit more prepared to listen to Constantine now than he had been earlier; at the very least, he just stared at the supernatural private detective in a sceptical manner, rather than actually trying to _attack _him. Privately, Constantine wondered if Jason could 'sense' emotions in a similar manner to dogs- he certainly seemed to have an uncanny grasp of how to make the best impact on people when he was 'hunting' them- but he pushed that aside for the moment; this wasn't the time to speculate about stuff like that.

"I know you probably think that I _can't _understand your situation," Constantine continued, continuing to stand in a relaxed manner as he faced Jason; he took care not to even put his hands in his pockets, in case Jason thought he was reaching for a gun of some kind. "However, I can assure you… just because I _look _like everyone else doesn't mean I am. When I was younger…"

He paused for a brief time, and then shook his head as he continued to speak. "There's no better way to say it, so I'll just say it; when I was young, I could see things that human beings aren't meant to see. I could see the demons and angels who walked the Earth… always able to see them, but unable to convince _anybody _else that I was telling the truth…"

He sighed as he looked down for a moment- Angel noted, with the part of his mind that would always remain the vampire seeking his next victim, that Constantine's current topic was genuinely hard for him to talk about- and then looked back up to stare at Jason directly once more.

"Hell…" Constantine muttered, a small, grim smile on his face as he looked at Jason's bound form, "even my _parents _thought I was a basket case."

It passed by so briefly that, if Constantine hadn't been looking for it, he would have missed it, but it was there; for a brief moment, Jason almost seemed _horrified _at the idea that a parent _couldn't _accept their child as what it was. Of course, it vanished pretty rapidly- after so long alone, Jason probably found it hard to identify with _anybody _else in the world- but it had still been there.

Constantine was on the right track for cracking through Jason's 'defences'.

Now all he had to do was keep going without applying _too _much pressure to Jason's scarred psyche, and he _might _manage to get through to the guy…

"It drove me… well, pretty much over the edge," Constantine continued, speaking carefully as he continued to look at Jason; he didn't want to give the killer too much information too rapidly, but at the same time he didn't want to treat Jason as though he thought the guy was an idiot. "I actually tried to _kill _myself on one occasion- thought it was the only way I could get away from all the pain and rage I felt about what had happened to me- but I was taken to a hospital before I could totally die, and…"

He sighed, putting his hands back in his pockets as he looked at Jason. "I spent a lot of time after that pretty much resenting the world for what it had done to me. Oh, I tried to use my abilities to deal with problems I discovered, but I was only really doing it for myself, trying to win points with the world to make up for what I'd done to myself. It was only after a particularly close call, involving the deaths of most of my remaining friends at the hands of a couple of old enemies, that I finally accepted something I should have accepted a long time ago."

Although Jason didn't speak, he slightly inclined his head to one side in an inquiring manner as he studied Constantine, evidently wondering what the supernatural detective had realised about himself.

"I realised," Constantine continued, looking fixedly at Jason as he spoke, "that, just because the _world_ wasn't fair, doesn't mean I should _treat _it like it's not fair. The world can be a harsh place, Jason, and I may have lost everybody in it who ever actually gave a damn about me… but I _can't _allow that to think that that's the way the world is for _everybody_."

Taking a deep breath, Constantine walked slightly closer to the still-bound Jason, his eyes fixed on the former killer's mask as he spoke.

"I made a decision to do what I could to prevent _anybody _else from feeling like I'd felt on occasion," the exorcist said, staring pointedly at the man tied up before him. "I hadn't had anybody who'd cared about me back when I went through all that crap, and I didn't want to let anybody else go through that if I could do anything to help them."

Studying Jason, Constantine was gratified

"You're one up on me there, Jason," he continued, as he looked at Jason with a small, sad smile on his face. "You may have had a hard life, but you actually had somebody who _cared _about you when everything went to Hell."

Constantine paused for a moment, knowing that what he was about to say could end up making all the difference between them gaining an ally and them having to deal with an enraged, unkillable psycho in their own headquarters.

"I just think you need to ask yourself… would she have _wanted _you to turn out like this?"

For a moment, Jason seemed ready to try and break the bonds Spawn had trapped him in once again, pure rage in his eyes as he glared at Constantine- the psychic could almost swear he 'heard' the words _HOW DARE YOU_ come from somewhere- but the mask-wearing killer seemed to decide against it, and simply stilled himself while continuing to stare critically at Constantine, as though willing to wait before attempting whether or not to kill him.

"It's just… _think _about it, Jason," Constantine said as he looked at the man before him, praying that his analysis of Jason's mentality was accurate. "From what I've read, your mom had some problems, but she was basically a good person. Is this kind of thing _really _the way she'd want you to honour her 'memory'; killing a whole bunch of people?"

Under the mask, Jason seemed to be glaring at Constantine- if he had been able to speak, Constantine was fairly sure he would have been yelling at him by this point- but, on the bright side, he wasn't attempting to break out of his chains and strangle Constantine.

"Revenge is something you probably feel you're entitled to, I get that," Constantine said, as he looked anxiously at the man before him, "but you've _had _your revenge, Jason. You killed the person who killed your mother; is it really worth your while to _keep _killing anyone who gets in your path?"

Jason continued to say nothing, and Constantine continued. "I understand why you'd feel like the world has given you nothing, but, in the end, you can't just lash out at everything else because _you _feel hard done by; I did that once, and, in the end, you get nothing but more pain and loneliness, and you'll never feel satisfied with your actions no matter what you do…"

Taking a deep breath, Constantine walked forward for those last few crucial feet, and, reaching out, placed a hand on Jason's shoulder, causing the Crystal Lake Slasher to look him directly in the eye as he continued to speak.

"But when you channel that pain into helping prevent _others _going through something like what you've had to go through…" Constantine said, an earnest expression on his face as he looked at the young 'boy' (Jason could hardly be called a man, given his child-like mentality) before him, "…it's hard, but it's worth it."

Pausing for a moment to collect his thoughts, Constantine directed his gaze directly at Jason's eyes, hoping and praying that his next words would get through to the 'boy' before him.

"Let her go, Jason," he said, praying that he'd managed to get through to the man before him. "Love her… mourn her…. miss her… but you have to let her go."

For a moment, Jason just stood there, staring silently at Constantine as the exorcist removed his hand from Jason's shoulder and stepped back slightly. No words passed in the room, as every member of the Coven waited with baited breath for what would happen next…

Then, in a moment that would forever remain burned into the memories of all who stood there, a moment that no other person had ever witnessed for the last couple of decades, Jason Voorhees, the Crystal Lake Slasher, a man who had slain over two hundred people in a blind fit of rage at the world that had taken away his mother, slowly opened his mouth and spoke.

"Muuuu…" he managed to get out, his voice low and rough from years of disuse, the faintest trace of tears visible behind his mask as he stared at Constantine. He stopped, looking- as far as could be guessed under the mask- almost exhausted by the effort involved in saying that much, as though he couldn't say any more.

A quick glance between Constantine and Spawn was all that was needed; with a brief wave of his hand, the chains holding Jason up vanished, 'flying' back towards the would-be General of Hell, leaving Jason standing alone by the post they'd tied him to earlier. Walking forward once more, Constantine reached out to place a comforting, encouraging hand on Jason's arm, looking promptingly at the Crystal Lake Slasher, who seemed to take a deep breath before trying to talk once again.

"Muuu… mmmeee…" he said again, staring at Constantine as he spoke again, tears now starting to trickle down his mask from the eyeholes as he stared at the man who had just been talking to him. His voice sounded like he was almost choking on the word that he was trying to say, but it was clear that, if Jason had reached a state where he wouldn't even allow _death_ to stop him, he wasn't going to give in to some uncooperative vocal chords when he finally wanted to say something.

"Want… muuu…mmmeee…" he croaked out, before his body finally seemed to give up and he collapsed forward. His forehead pressed around the ground, Jason raised his hands to either side of his hhead, fists clenched and his machete left lying beside him, as his shoulders shook, powerful sobs wracking his body as he cried against the floor.

Glancing back briefly at the other Coven members to make sure they were there if things turned ugly, Constantine moved closer to Jason and, kneeling down beside the killer, placed a comforting hand on Jason's shoulder.

"It's OK, Jason…" he said, looking tenderly at the mass murderer who was still so much like a boy inside. "Let it all out, Jason… It's OK to cry. You go ahead and cry, Jason."

Despite all that he knew of Jason's history- a trail of bloodshed that would have impressed some of the demons Constantine had encountered, given the limited amount of time Jason had been allowed to acquire it- the exorcist couldn't help but pity him now.

As he'd suspected, at heart, Jason was still only a boy who missed his loving mother, and wanted nothing more than to have her back to take care of him.

And, right now, that little boy needed to do what he'd never had the chance to do, and cry for the mother who'd loved him.

"You go ahead and cry…" Constantine whispered, gingerly wrapping his arms around Jason's sobbing form as the serial killer sobbed uncontrollably, the rest of the Coven relaxing as they watched the Crystal Lake Slasher weep, mourning for his mother in a manner that he'd been unable to do so at the original time of her death all those years ago.

Even knowing what Jason had done in his lifetime, looking at him as he sobbed in Constantine's arms, none of the other members of the Coven could bring themselves to interrupt him as he expressed his grief for what must have been the first time in his entire existence.

_It's not exactly the _perfect _way to recruit an ally_, Angel mused to himself as he stared at the crying form held in Constantine's comforting arms, _but it's the best way I can think of at the moment_.

"Kind of odd, really," Spike said off to the side as he studied the sobbing Jason before them. "Sod killed all those people according to the files we've got in him, and yet, in the end, he's sobbing like a little kid."

"Mmm," Hellboy muttered, nodding thoughtfully as he studied Jason, his chin in his hands. "Almost like he's two different people, when you think about it; one person's the ruthless killer who's pissed at the planet, and the other's just a frightened kid who wants his mum."

As soon as his brain had processed what Hellboy had just said, Angel's eyes widened slightly in inspiration.

_Two different people_…

Now _there _was a way of dealing with another big gun on the Gathering's side…

It was risky, true, but if Angel timed it right, making his move soon while the Gathering were still fuming at the loss of Jason- and if he knew the guy as well as he _thought _he did- it should pay off…

* * *

In a dark dimension that nobody who knew the location of wanted to stay in, and whose inhabitants commonly spent their time straining to get _out _of that dimension and onto the other ones, a figure sat in a throne and silently cursed this recent chain of events.

_Damnit_! he mused to himself, as he stared at the sight of Jason Voorhees- the ruthless killer who still remained a child at heart; one soul who could have become a prize jewel in his collection down here- sobbing his heart out as John Constantine- a man who had been a thorn in his 'relative's' (For lack of a better term) side for far too long- tried to offer him what comfort he could for the release of almost a lifetime's worth of grief and pain.

If Jason had _remained _on the Gathering, not only would he have been a lethal foe for the Coven, but his actions as a member of the team would virtually have _guaranteed _his place down here; ending the world wasn't something that _any _amount of good deeds could redeem you from.

Instead, the Coven had not only deprived the Gathering of one of their most powerful members, but they'd actually given that member a chance at _redemption_.

Fighting alongside heroes like the Coven to stop the Gathering from slaughtering all life on that Earth?

That kind of thing would go a _long _way towards giving Jason a chance of making up for all the people he'd killed…

_There's nothing else for it_, he mused, as he reached over to pick up a small black globe- small by his standards, that is; it would have been a significant size for anybody else- and stared into it.

I shall have to begin the 'recruitment drive', the being continued, now 'thinking' into the globe, a smile spreading across his face at the thought of what would take place once this particular part of his plan was out of the way. 

Even if, by some bizarre fluke, the Coven managed to defeat _all _of the Gathering, there was no _way _they could stop _these _people when the time came for them to launch their own assault on the world…


	12. Freddy Versus Angel: Round One

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the members of the Coven, nor do I own the Coven's allies, or the various members of the Gathering

Feedback: I'd appreciate that, trust me

The Gathering of Supernatural Psychopaths

For a few brief moments, there was silence among the Coven as they watched Jason Voorhees cried tears that must have been building up inside him from the moment he'd first witnessed his mother's death, each of them understanding that this was a moment where Jason should be left alone as Constantine did what he could to comfort his new 'ally'.

"So," Spike said eventually, breaking the silence and looking inquiringly over at Angel, "what's the plan now that we've got Hockey Boy on the team?"

"Twofold," Angel said, as he turned to look at the other members of the Coven. "With your agreement, we're _not _going to go down into action until Jason's had a while to calm down and get into better shape."

Spawn opened his mouth as though to say something, but Angel raised a hand to stop the former assassin. "I _know _that the Gathering are still a problem, but I'm not going to dive in head-first while Jason's still in an emotionally uncertain position; if nothing else, we _can't _just treat him like we view him as a weapon."

Leo nodded in agreement as he looked back at the disfigured being currently crying in Constantine's arms. "Good point, Angel," he said, as he looked back at the vampire in an approving manner. "After all those things that John just told him, it _would _be kind of hypocritical of us to shove him into a fight just because we've won him over to _our _side; we should give Jason time to decide whether he even _wants _to help us or not."

After a brief moment where they all exchanged glances with each other, the rest of the Coven nodded in consent; after being used by so many people in their lives, none of them were willing to put someone else through it. Just because it was for good rather than evil didn't change the fact that they'd basically be roping somebody into a battle without thinking about what the person in question wanted.

Angel may have done terrible things to get his 'invitation' to the Circle of the Black Thorn, but that was then and this was now, and even when he'd _done _those things- such as killing Drogyn, or giving the baby to the Fell Brethren- he'd regretted it, taking every step possible to avoid anything permanent happening to them until he knew that there was no other choice.

He wouldn't do something like that to Jason.

Besides, just having him off the Gathering was a significant change in their favour; even if Jason wasn't fighting _with _the Coven against his old 'allies', he wouldn't be fighting _against _them, and that was enough to seriously improve their chances of success as far as they could all see.

"What's the next thing?" Hellboy said, looking inquiringly at his leader.

"Just an idea I had that _might _manage to take a bit more firepower away from our enemies," Angel explained, as he looked around at the rest of the Coven curiously. "Before I do, though, I have to know something; has anyone fallen asleep- for _any _length of time- since we met Spawn and started fighting the Gathering?"

Confused, but nevertheless sure that Angel must have a reason for asking such an odd question the Coven all replied in the negative.

"Good," Angel said, nodding thoughtfully before he looked back at Leo, Cole and Spawn. "Do any of you have anything that could _make_ me sleep? It needs to be fast-acting and last for a significant amount of time; I'd like to do this as soon as possible."

Leo and Spawn both shook their heads, but Cole nodded thoughtfully.

"I _think _I might have something that could do the trick…" he said, as he looked back at Angel. "It was mainly intended to be used to put normal humans in the vicinity of a magic-using battle to sleep until the fight was over so they wouldn't see anything strange. Typically it's only meant to work on humans for short periods, but I could probably 'up the dosage' to make it work on you …"

The Goldlighter's voice trailed off as he looked at Angel once again, a growing expression of shock spreading over his face.

"You can't be _serious_!" he yelled, startling the rest of the Coven as he stared at Angel in shock. "Angel, you actually _want _to fight _that _guy on _his _territory? There's no _way_ you'll manage to-"

"It's the _only _way, Cole!" Angel retorted, stepping forward to stare directly into the Goldlighter's eyes, bare inches separating the two men. For a moment, the two former killers just stood and stared at each other, the rest of the Coven looking in confusion between their leader and their restored comrade, before Angel sighed and look back at Cole apologetically.

"Look," he said, his apology evident in his voice, "I'm _not _saying that it's a _perfect _plan, but it's the only one I've got that even has a _chance _of taking that guy out, I'm the _only _one who can pull it off… and trust me; I've changed since the _last _time we had this kind of conversation- I _won't _be trying something like _that _again."

None of the others had any idea what Angel meant by that comment, but Cole evidently did; his expression changed and he looked quizzically at Angel for a moment, as though trying to see something about the vampire formerly known as Angelus that nobody else could see.

"You're sure?" Cole said at least, leaving the rest of the Coven none the wiser as to what the two were talking about.

Angel nodded. "As sure as I can be on both counts," he replied, before leaning over to place a hand on Cole's shoulder as he looked his ally in the eyes once more. "Trust me; I'm _sure _that I can do this and come back."

For a moment, Cole just continued to stare uncertainly back at Angel, as though trying to decide whether the vampire was telling him the truth or simply telling him what he _wanted _to hear…

Then he sighed, nodded, and indicated a couch.

"That's probably the closest thing we'll ever get to a bed up here; this room wasn't exactly designed with long-term accommodation in mind, so I doubt we'll be able to summon one even if we all wanted it," he said, an almost apologetic look on his face as he looked back at Angel. "You'd better get comfortable; as you said, this won't exactly be easy to deal with."

"Sorry; can we back up a bit here for the _rest _of us?" Hellboy interjected, looking in confusion between the two men as Cole walked over to stand by the couch in question. "What the hell is all this about you going to _sleep_ at a time like this?"

"Simple," Angel said, walking over to lie down on the couch beside which Cole was now standing- taking care to stay some distance away from the still-sobbing Jason Voorhees as Constantine tried to 'comfort' him- as he looked critically at the other members of the Coven. "By the time I wake up, either I'll have defeated Freddy Krueger, or I'll be dead…well, more than I am at the moment."

Before any of the Coven could move to stop him, Cole had waved his hand, sending a cloud of orange-coloured dust falling onto Angel's face, and the former Scourge of Europe had fallen asleep, leaving the Coven staring between Angel and Cole in shock.

Finally, Blade broke the silence.

"Is he doing what I _think _he's doing?" he asked, looking at the former half-demon with a glare that suggested that only the fact that Cole had already given his life to save the world was stopping Blade from trying to kill him _again_.

"That depends on what you think he's doing," Cole replied casually.

"He's going to sleep to draw out that bastard Krueger- the guy _does _go for his victims in their sleep if I remember right- and then he's going to see what he can do about killing the guy on the 'dreamscape'- or whatever you want to call the 'realm' where dreams take place-, right?" Hellboy interjected, looking critically at their resurrected ally/enemy.

Cole could only nod at that.

Spawn groaned in frustration, looked at Angel with an expression that suggested he'd be perfectly happy to hit the guy if he wasn't uncertain whether or not it would make things worse, and then glanced back at the rest of the Coven.

"Is he _insane_?" he asked, directing his gaze towards Spike and Illyria in search of an answer; of all of the Coven, the two of them had known Angel the longest, even if most of Illyria's memories were second hand. In general, the Coven tended not to think too much about the fact that Illyria was only here because she had possessed somebody's body and (Apparently) destroyed the person's soul; they understood that Illyria hadn't _chosen _to do it, accepted that she was on their side nowadays, and left it at that.

Spike shrugged. "Came bloody close a few times in the past, but he's not gone all the way yet," he said, as he glanced back at his sire's sleeping form before looking back at the Coven. "Trust me; I may find Peaches annoying, but if he's got a plan to fight this guy, he's pretty sure he can pull it off and save the sodding day _without _getting himself killed."

Looking at the body of his grand-sire once more, Spike shrugged as he looked back at the Coven uncertainly. "Of course, I can't say whether it'll actually _work_; we'll just have to wait and see on that front."

* * *

As his eyes 'opened' in the dream, Angel was only partly surprised to find himself once more in the main lobby of the Hyperion Hotel, surrounded by Jasmine's followers after his return from the insectoid dimension. It only made sense that Freddy would have picked this moment- a moment when Angel had come closer than ever before to believing that he wouldn't manage to win this time around- to set the stage for their own fight on the dreamscape. 

If nothing else, the fact that Angel _didn't _have the Keeper's head in his hand this time around, coupled with the fact that Freddy was standing on the balcony dressed in Jasmine's clothes- he even had her _hair_ instead of his wide-brimmed hat- made it clear that Freddy was going to use his new access to Angel's memories to the full.

"Hey there, sucker," the Springwood Slasher chuckled as he stared down at the vampire, eagerly flexing his bladed hand as he stared at his opponent. "Nice to see one of you Coven buggers _here _at last; I was beginning to think I'd _never _have the chance to do what I do best."

"What can I say?" Angel retorted as he stared up at 'Fredasmine', his eyes narrowing. "I'm always eager to try something new."

As he returned Angel's gaze, Freddy chuckled slightly, the sadistic grin only slightly spoiled by the thick brown curls that surrounded his head in his current disguise.

"Brave, but foolish, Vampy-boy," he said nonchalantly as he looked at his foe. "Shall I demonstrate _why_?"

Raising his non-bladed hand, Freddy snapped his fingers…

And, instantly, the people around Angel- who had remained frozen up to this point- leapt towards the vampire, each of them clearly just as eager to kill him as they had been when he'd been in this situation in real life. Admittedly, there were certain key differences- Jasmine's followers hadn't been _armed _with large stakes, for one thing- but the essential details were the same.

_No_, Angel reminded himself, his gaze fixed on Freddy as he felt the mass of bodies surround him. _This is _not _the same situation_.

This time around, he could actually fight back without worrying about causing permanent damage; after all, these people technically didn't exist. 

He just wished that they didn't _feel _as real as they did at the moment…

"Don't think you can just throw them off _that _easily, Scourge m'vamp," Freddy chuckled, as Angel strained against his 'attackers'. "In this realm, _I'm _the big gun here; you may be older and stronger, but that doesn't mean _anything _here. On the dreamscape…"

Freddy chuckled casually. "What can I say? I'm _God _down here."

Angel supposed it was the 'God' comment, more than anything else, that really drove him to try harder in his current struggle.

He was _not_ going to let himself get taken out by a guy with delusions of godhood when all he had were a couple of second-hand tricks and an over-the-top dependency on other people; if nobody actually _knew _about Freddy, he was practically powerless from what Angel had read about him.

Freddy may have been a dangerous opponent- there was no question about _that_- but if Angel could actually manage to some _damage _to the Senior Partners, he could _damn _well take out a child-killing serial killer who'd been given an upgrade by a bunch of low-grade dream-demons.

With that thought prominent in his mind, Angel vamped out, and with a loud roar, lashed out with a powerful punch at the nearest target, sending the man in question practically flying backwards with his nose nearly forced inside out. Taking advantage of the brief gap in the swarm around him, Angel dived forward through the newly opened gap, simultaneously delivering a couple of quick blows to the chests of the people on either side of the gap to prevent them closing it. Still in motion, Angel's feet hit the ground, he ran forwards for a few seconds to build up a new momentum, and then leapt upwards towards the balcony where Freddy was standing.

As he landed in front of his transvestite opponent, Angel couldn't stop himself from grinning slightly at the evident shock on Freddy's face; he somehow doubted that many people managed to get that kind of reaction out of this guy.

"My mind, my rules," he informed Freddy casually.

Before Freddy could come up with a 'witty' retort of some kind, Angel had drawn back his fist and launched a rapid punch at Freddy's burned face, sending the child-killer flying backwards a few feet and breaking the illusion he'd created.

As Freddy looked dazedly back at Angel, no longer dressed like Jasmine- Angel had 'willed' him back into his 'conventional' clothing the moment he'd launched the first punch- he realised that they were no longer in the Hyperion Hotel, but were instead standing in the middle of a primitive-looking village, looking like something out of _Xena_ or _Hercules: The Legendary Journey_. He couldn't immediately identify the location, but it was clearly somewhere Angel knew; the vampire couldn't create something this detailed solely from his own imagination.

"Welcome to Pylea," Angel said in response to Freddy's confused expression as he grinned casually at his opponent. "Now… time to die."

Before Freddy could retaliate, Angel had hauled the child-killer back onto his feet, gripping the neckline of Freddy's jumper with one hand even as he launched another punch at Freddy's face with the other. This second punch shattered Freddy's nose, sending the so-called 'Son of a Hundred Homicidal Maniacs' reeling backwards, screaming in pain as bone and blood mingled in with his old 'burns'.

"You've probably got a pretty sweet deal here normally, _Freddy_," Angel said casually, as he lashed out with a rapid series of punches that left Kruger wincing in agony; even if Angel hasn't actually hitting his _body_, the blows still translated into mental pain on some level. "Targetting children in the one place where their parents _can't _help them? Living off the fears of others like some supernatural leech… keeping yourself in control of the mental realm… using the strength of others to ensure that you stay where _you _are?"

He narrowed his eyes grimly as he stared at Freddy's dazed and battered form, before launching a powerful kick at Freddy's chest that sent the long-time killer flying backwards once again, this time colliding with one of the many small huts around the village centre.

"How does it feel to be facing somebody who can actually fight _back_, Freddy?" Angel asked, staring scornfully down at his opponent as he walked over to stand above Freddy, flexing his fingers as he prepared to deliver the final blow. "Not much fun, is it? Feel what your victims felt for once in your life, you goddamn piece of _shit_!"

Grabbing Freddy's jumper in one hand, Angel hauled the killer back up once more, grinning slightly at the dazed expression on his opponent's face as he drew his hand back to deliver the final blow.

"See you in Hell, _asshole_," he said, as he launched the fist at Freddy's head, almost unable to believe how _easy _this fight had been; he hadn't even needed to resort to his 'secret weapon' to triumph over this dream-dwelling wacko…

Then Freddy's gloved hand practically flew up in front of his face, grabbing Angel's hand before it could even make contact with its target, and Angel knew that it definitely _wasn't _going to be that easy.

"You first," Freddy retorted nonchalantly.

Before Angel could even _try _to process this rapid shift in how the fight was going- evidently Freddy had been holding back earlier to lull him into a false sense of confidence- he felt a sudden, sharp pain in his chest that he instantly identified as Freddy's claws stabbing him.

_This is not real_… Angel told himself, trying to force himself to resist the pain he was feeling as he staggered backwards, clutching the injury even as he tried to deny its existence. _This is not real… I have a real body… I exist in the _real _world... Freddy _cannot _hurt me _here_…_

Then Freddy slashed him along one arm, leaving Angel feeling like he'd actually _lost _the limb, and Angel knew that he couldn't afford to wait any longer to try his original 'plan'.

_HELP ME_! he 'yelled' mentally, praying that he'd correctly understood what Freddy was capable of; if he had even the _slightest _subconscious doubt about this situation, all he would have achieved by this latest gamble would be dying a bit earlier than he might have done otherwise. _HELP ME! I CAN'T STOP HIM ALONE; **HELP **ME_!

Even as Angel was making his mental plea for assistance, he continued to try and throw his current adversary off-balance, desperately trying to get past Freddy's sudden, rapid swipes as he lashed out at his vampire opponent. However, with one of his arms rendered practically useless by Freddy's earlier attack, coupled with the ease with which Freddy could clearly manipulate their current 'environment' to give himself greater strength, Angel was soon forced to accept that it was an exercise in futility; even if he _did _hit Freddy, his blows seemed to do little actual _damage_.

But, even as his pleas for aid went unanswered, Angel refused to give up.

If this was how he would end, he was going out of the world the way he'd come into fight; in conflict with his enemies, even if the odds seemed impossible. In desperation, Angel lashed out with another kick, hoping that he could still deliver enough damage with his feet even if his arms were practically useless, only for Freddy to grab the foot and send Angel briefly spinning through the air before he crashed to the ground- which, Angel noted with some surprise, was no longer the grass it had been when the fight had started.

_What the…_? Angel muttered to himself in confusion. Glancing around, his eyes widened in shock as he realised he was in an underground room of some kind with a large boiler facing him; if it hadn't been for the lack of a table, he could almost have assumed he was once again in the hell dimension that had once held Lindsey and Gunn.

"Welcome to my home," Freddy chuckled, drawing Angel's attention back to his opponent as the vampire scrambled back onto his feet, staring in confusion at his foe. "It was here that I died."

He then smirked slightly as his gaze fixed on his opponent. "And, of course, it's where I've taken so many of my _other _victims- and now you, of course- to kill _them_."

Before Angel could reply, Freddy had charged towards the still-dazed ex-Scourge of Europe, grabbed him by the throat, and pinned him to the floor just in front of the boiler. Even though he didn't need to breath in reality, evidently, Freddy's dream-world seemed to 'dictate' that lack of air could at least _weaken _vampires; even as Angel reached for the hands around his throat, he felt his strength begin to lessen even as spots briefly danced in front of his vision.

**_HELP ME_**!!! he screamed mentally once more, even knowing that he was unlikely to receive the aid he needed…

Then, on the outskirts of his mind, Angel felt a brief 'whisper' of an answer, and he allowed himself a smile.

This sucker wasn't the _best _ally Angel could hope for, but, in this kind of fight, Angel supposed he would have to make do.

* * *

"Game over," Freddy chuckled, as he stared at Angel with a sadistic smile, his bladed hand drawing ever closer to the vampire's face. "Any last words before I finish you off?"

"Just two things…" Angel gasped, staring up at Freddy grimly, his fingers still desperately trying to pry the dream-killer's hands from his throat even as he waited for his ally to arrive at last. "Firstly… do you _really _think… I'd fall asleep… knowing what you could… without a plan?"

Freddy chuckled low in his throat as he stared at Angel.

"Yeah, I considered it," he said, a broad, vicious grin on his face as he raised his gloved hand to aim two of the 'knives' at Angel's eyes, preparing to plunge them into the vampire's skull at a moment's notice. "But, given that you're in _my_ domain right now, I figured the odds were good that it wouldn't actually _work_; how can you kill a man on his home ground?"

The grin faded as he stared at Angel, flexing his fingers with a serious expression as he prepared to strike down, killing the vampire once and for all. "What was the second thing?"

"Second…" Angel continued, his gaze suddenly fixed on a point over Freddy's shoulder, "my name… is _Angel_."

Before Freddy could say anything, he suddenly felt something strong grab the back of his jumper, haul him off Angel and hurl him through the air to crash into the nearest wall. He hit with such force that Freddy actually felt the wall _crack _behind him- dream or not, it still automatically _felt _like real brick, which meant he must have hit it with _incredible _force- and collapsed to the ground, gasping in confusion and shock.

_What the _HELLFreddy thought, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Even if that Constantine sucker- the closest thing the Coven had to a telepathic member, from what he'd been told- had tried to help his ally, Freddy was blocking anybody else from being able to access Angel's mind! How could the vampire have acquired _any _kind of ally in his own _mind_?

Then Freddy looked up, and his question was answered.

Standing in between him and the still-bleeding form of Angel, dressed in an almost exact duplicate of Angel's current clothes- the only difference was that the jumper he wore was black while Angel's was just dark blue- was a man who, baring the satisfied smirk on his face and the malicious, sadistic gleam in his eyes, looked _exactly _like Angel.

As soon as Freddy's eyes were fixed on him, the man's smile broadened, as though he was glad to be acknowledged, even as his eyes narrowed like a predator studying his next meal.

For the first time since acquiring his dream powers after his 'death' all those years ago, Freddy felt the first faint trace of fear.

"_I'm_ Angelus," the second Angel said grimly. "And trust me, Freddy… you are in for a _world _of pain."


	13. Freddy VS Angel & Angelus: Round Two

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the members of the Coven, nor do I own the Coven's allies, or the various members of the Gathering

Feedback: I'd appreciate that, trust me

AN: In advance, if anyone objects to me suddenly having Jason talk when he's gone through around eight movies being totally silent, you need to take into account that nobody's ever actually tried to just talk _to _him before- yelling at him to come over somewhere, calling him an asshole and trying to 'bribe' him with stuff he has no interest in is more talking _at _him than _to _him-; besides, I'm keeping his conversation limited to the basics to reflect his intellectual abilities, so it's not _that _much of a stretch

The Gathering of Supernatural Psychopaths

The Coven had only been sitting around for a few moments, looking anxiously at Angel's unconscious body on the sofa as they waited for some kind of clue that their friend had won his fight with Freddy Krueger, when the faint sound of an 'alarm' sounded through the 'room' that served as the Coven's headquarters.

"What the… isn't that the room's 'warning system'?" Leo said, looking up anxiously at the sound. After Jason had seemingly cried himself out, Constantine had decided that the best thing he could do for the guy was leave him alone to cope with his grief, and had thus joined the rest of the Coven to chat a bit about the current crisis; the former psychopath was currently lying in one corner, clutching his knees and sobbing slightly as he lay still, while Constantine sat with the other members of the Coven.

"What could that be about?" the Whitelighter continued, looking anxiously over at Blade.

"Good question…" the Daywalker muttered grimly as he stood up, closing his eyes as he tried to concentrate. With Angel temporarily out of action, it had been almost an unspoken agreement that Blade would take over leadership of the Coven until he was back in action. Some of the other members of the Coven may have been fighting for longer than him- Hellboy had been fighting since the Second World War, and Cole had been an assassin for almost a century- but Blade was far and away the superior tactician of the remaining members, so he had been the logical choice for Angel's temporary 'replacement' as leader.

"But…" the Daywalker continued, nodding thoughtfully as he studied the base around them, as though the 'room' would _tell _him what he needed to know, "given what we're currently up against, I have a feeling we might not entirely _want _to know…"

"Yeah…" Constantine muttered, an anxious expression on his face as he raised one hand. "That's what makes it so annoying that we _have _to know."

With that said, the exorcist concentrated for a moment, and then a small glass globe appeared in his hand, showing a small picture in the middle of it. It was a brief, faint image of course- this kind of spell wasn't something he did on a regular basis, and it was hardly a precise art anyway- but it was enough to show him what they needed to know; right now, down on Earth, the Creeper, Pinhead and Drusilla were back in action, lashing out at anything that moved around them.

"Oh, _bugger _me…" Spike groaned as he looked at the globe, before a thought occurred to him and he looked at Constantine. "How's that work?"

"Little something I came up with recently; it ties into the room's 'warning' system if we get any alerts and shows us a decent picture of whatever we're up against," Constantine explained, before he glanced back up at Blade. "Uh… shall I see how Jason's doing?"

Blade nodded.

"Might as well _ask_," he said simply. "If he doesn't want to come, we've weakened the Gathering; if he does, we've got a new ally- it's win/win either way."

Nodding, Constantine swallowed slightly- even if he'd been responsible for the Crystal Lake Slasher coming here in the first place, it was only human to be a _bit_ nervous about a man holding a large machete- and walked over to stand beside the bent-over form of the masked man.

"Jason?" he said, as he crouched down beside the deformed figure, placing a light, comforting hand on his shoulder. "We… we have a situation here. Your… the people you… were with when we met you… they're attacking again."

For a moment, there was silence as Constantine looked uncertainly at Jason, until he slowly raised his hand to look uncertainly at the exorcist.

"P… pa… pain?" he asked uncertainly; his voice was still weak from years of disuse, but it was still audible nevertheless.

"Yeah… they're causing pain," Constantine replied, nodding uncertainly at Jason. "They're causing a _lot _of pain… but, right now, you have an opportunity to help us stop them."

Jason's head tilted to one side as he looked in confusion at the man who'd shown him the first signs of compassion he'd ever received since his mother died.

"It's your choice, of course," Constantine said, raising one hand as though to stop Jason asking questions. "You can help us if you want, but… if you'd rather remain here, and stay away from them… well, we'll understand. In the end, whatever you decide to do, it's your decision; nobody else wants to _make _you choose one option or another."

For a moment, there was silence as Jason lay there, his eyes staring blankly at the wall before him. Then he stood up, flexed his shoulders, picked up his machete, and looked grimly over at Constantine.

"Fiiii… ghtttt…" he said grimly, clenching his weapon in his hands as he looked at Constantine.

"You're sure?" Constantine asked again.

Jason only nodded this time around- he clearly still wasn't quite comfortable with talking just yet- but it was enough for Constantine to confirm what he already knew.

He would help them fight the Gathering.

As Constantine turned back to look at the Coven, he could only hope that he didn't come to regret this if Jason _wasn't _as 'dependable' as he hoped he was…

* * *

"At _last_…" Angel muttered, one hand gingerly cradling his throat as he staggered to his feet, looking critically at Angelus. "You took your time showing up, didn't you?" 

"What; you thought I was going to miss a chance at _seeing _you get beaten up for once?" Angelus retorted, smiling casually at his ensouled counterpart. "Most of the time I've just got to _experience_ it; it's nice to see you get what's coming to you _without _having to feel it myself."

Despite the seriousness of the situation they currently faced, Angel couldn't help but smile slightly as he looked at his demon.

It was a strange 'alliance' they had formed here, there was no doubt about that, but, right now, the two of them were all each other had if they were going to survive this new showdown.

"_What_?" Freddy yelled as he leapt to his feet, staring incredulously at the two duplicate vampires standing in front of him (If such terms could actually apply in a 'reality' that was based around a mental landscape rather than something that was taking place in the _real _world). "What the _fuck _is going _on _here; you're the fucking _bad guy_!"

"Really?" Angelus asked, grinning over casually at the deformed homicidal maniac before him. "Thanks for clarifying that; I wasn't all that sure when I 'woke up' this morning."

"You aren't getting the fucking _point_; why the _Hell_ are you helping _him_?" Freddy continued, indicating Angel as the vampire flexed his neck to try and work the residual stiffness out of it. "You're meant to be trying to fucking _kill _him, not _help _him!"

"Yeah, funny thing about that; I'm not _quite _as moronic as you suckers seem to _think _I am," Angelus retorted, his arms folded as he stared at the Springwood Slasher. "I mean, OK, I _did _try to suck the world into Hell at one point, but does it ever occur to you that I would have been in _charge _when that 'transference' took place; it's not like I'd have been just one of the crowd!"

"Your point?" Freddy growled, as he stared angrily over at the two vampires, flexing his claws as he stared at his new foes, clearly waiting for the right moment to strike out at his two adversaries.

"First and foremost, I'm a survivor," Angelus explained, shrugging nonchalantly as he looked at the burned man in his red-and-green sweater and wide-brimmed brown hat. "The soul and I may not be the same person mentally," the former Scourge of Europe explained, as he looked casually over at his ensouled counterpart, a slight sneer on his face, "but his body is my body… and, last time I checked, I _don't _have somewhere else to go if this sucker ends up dead."

"So, as you can guess," Angel continued, a slight grin on his face as he took his hands away from his still-somewhat tender neck and glared at their adversary, "for Angelus, this is all about survival; I die, he dies. I live…"

He shrugged. "Well, there's always the possibility he'll get out again someday."

"And, in the meantime," Angelus added, smiling slightly as he looked over at Freddy, "I _do _still get to enjoy the feel of beating people up in some of the most enjoyable fights I've ever had in my _life_."

"Precisely," Angel said, nodding grimly at his soulless self before he turned back to look at Freddy. "Now then, any chance you could do the sane, sensible thing and give up _before _this situation gets ugly? I think we _all _know that you don't have a chance against both of us…"

"NEVER!" Freddy roared, as he rapidly thrust one hand out in front of him. Instantly, the two vampires were sent flying backwards, suddenly seized by some unseen force; it only took a brief glance from both vampires to ascertain that their surroundings had once again shifted, this time into a street in a small, as yet unidentified town.

"Springwood?" Angel suggested, looking inquiringly over at Angelus.

"Seems like it," his 'twin' replied, as the two men got back to their feet once more. "This guy doesn't really have much imagination, does he?"

Angel chuckled slightly.

"Tell me about it," he muttered, as he studied his surroundings; if Freddy could hear them, Angel was going to give him something to _really _get mad about. "I mean, not only does he keep 'going back' to his old town in his dreams, but his 'headquarters' is a _boiler room_? All the people he must have killed, and his default location when delivering the final blow is a _boiler room_?"

"_Oh, trust me, my vampiric friends_…" Freddy's voice chuckled from all around them, prompting the two vampires to glance anxiously around themselves. "_You haven't even _begun _to see what I'm capable of…_"

With that comment, the two vampires suddenly found the street they were standing on literally _shaking _under their feet, before it suddenly vaulted up into the air like it was on a spring, sending them both flying into the air.

"_Whoa_!!" Angel yelled, staring in confusion at his surroundings as he and Angelus suddenly found themselves hovering in mid-air.

"Stay _focused_, Soul-Boy!" Angelus yelled, desperately scrabbling for a hold on something as he hurled to the ground. "This is all in our _mind_, remember? _We _have the power here!"

"_True_," Freddy chuckled, as Angel and Angelus desperately tried to regain some kind of balance as they hurtled back towards the ground. "_But _I _have experience in this field of battle. And you?_"

It almost sounded like he was _smirking _as the two vampires struck the floor, each of them wincing in agony as they felt something shift unpleasantly in their arms and backs from the sheer force of the impact.

"You_, my friends_," Freddy continued, his voice growing louder as though he was coming closer to them, "_are rank amateurs at_ best."

As the faint sound of footsteps approached them, Angel and Angelus exchanged grim glances with each other, neither of them needing to speak to explain the plan of attack that they'd just come up with.

After all, they _were _each other.

"And, as the reigning champ," Freddy continued, as he took up a position standing close to the two downed vampires, "it gives me _great _pleasure to declare you two challengers-"

"SHUT! _UP_!!!" Angel and Angelus roared, the two of them leaping to their feet and simultaneously punching Freddy in the face. As the former Springwood Slasher was sent staggering backwards from the blow, the two long-time adversaries, gathering their forces and fighting to ignore the pain in their shoulders- the pain they _knew _didn't exist in their real bodies- continued their new assault on their adversary, striking him with as rapid a spree of punches and kicks as they could.

Neither of them showed any signs of giving up the assault.

Neither of them _could _give up the assault.

The second they relaxed their attack… even for a _moment_… they were as good as dead.

"You thought you had a decent set-up going for you, eh, Freddy?" Angel growled, as he punched the burned figure in the nose, smirking slightly as blood squirted from Freddy's face. "Weren't you _listening _to me earlier?"

"As loathe as I am to actually _agree _with this guy," Angelus added, as he kicked Freddy in the stomach with such force that the Springwood Slasher was sent doubling over from lack of air- just because the physical confrontation was only a 'metaphor' for the battle of the minds that was currently being waged between the three minds didn't mean it wouldn't hurt-, "he's right; you really _do _need to pay attention. You're not facing a bunch of kids you can terrify the pants off this time, Freddy m'boy; Soul-Boy and I have encountered things that you can't even _imagine_."

"Darla…" Angel stated grimly, accompanying each name with a powerful punch to the killer's face, "the Master… the Scourge… Hamilton… Jasmine… the Beast… _all _of them were _far _scarier than you."

"And guess what?" Angelus chuckled, kicking Freddy in the back as Angel launched another punch at their foe's face, resulting in Freddy's body briefly being bent in a manner that would have broken his back _and _neck if he'd been human. "We're still standing, and _they _are all dead, dust, or whatever the appropriate term is."

"Tell me, Frederick Charles _Krueger_," Angel stated, smirking slightly as he grabbed the neck of Freddy's jumper and hauled his battered body up so that the two of them were 'eye-to-eye', "how does it feel to face somebody who _isn't _a shaking wreck when you're trying to kill them?"

"How does it feel to know that you're being _hurt _in the place where you've been practically _omnipotent _for so long?" Angelus added, walking over to stand beside his 'brother' as the two of them glared at Freddy.

"To _know _that, for once, you're _not _the 'big cheese' in the dream realm?" Angel continued, an even broader grin spreading across his face as Freddy looked at him in shock and what was probably as close to pain as he could come in his disembodied condition.

"To know that _your_ life is in _our_ hands, rather than the other way around?" Angelus chuckled as he watched the form currently clutched in his other self's hands. "Don't worry about it, Freddy m'boy; I've done this to _tons _of people over the years… consider yourself just one in a line."

"Oh, you're good at what you do, we'll give you that," Angel stated, as he shifted his grip from Freddy's jumper to his neck and began to squeeze. "But Angelus and I… we've been doing this since before you were even a twinkle in your great-grandmother's eyes. We've seen and done things that you can only _imagine_…"

"R-r-really?" Freddy gasped weakly as he glared at the vampire before him. "C-c-care to g-g-g-give me a d-d-demonstration?"

Before either of them could realise what had happened, Freddy had clicked his fingers, and Angel suddenly found himself standing in an old-fashioned house, dressed in nineteenth-century style clothing and looking at a body lying before him.

"Oh no…" he whispered, his eyes widening in horror as he remembered exactly _where _this had happened.

It was one of the crimes that he'd been shown by the First, that terrible Christmas Day from almost five years ago…

The Christmas when he'd nearly been driven to kill himself to protect Buffy from his demon.

"_You call_ me_ a monster_?" Freddy's voice said from all around Angel, sounding almost amused by Angel's horror. "_At least I was always _honest _about what I was; you? You lied to _all _of your victims_-"

"Yeah," Angelus's voice chuckled, breaking into Angel's train of thought and prompting him to look up in shock; he'd almost forgotten that his 'brother' was still here. "But, guess what? While _he _hates it, I _love _it."

Before Angel could even start to look for where the voices were currently coming from, he heard a loud thud, clearly caused by a punch, and Freddy suddenly appeared in front of him, lying on the ground and clutching a nose that had started to bleed once again.

"Y'see, Freddy, _this _is why _Angel _came here to fight you," Angelus continued as he walked into view, dressed in clothing identical to Angel's current suit; whether it was something he'd been 'made' to wear due to their surroundings, or whether he just felt like it, Angel couldn't be sure and wasn't entirely bothered right now. "Some of the other suckers in his little 'Coven' might be bigger and tougher, but he had one little edge that they _didn't _have; me."

"Oh, _really_?" Freddy retorted, trying to sound confident despite his bleeding nose as he stared at Angelus. "No offence, but you're not _that _much of an edge, are ya? I mean, I just need to _will _it, and we're in _your _worst nightmare-"

"And no longer in _mine_," Angel pointed out grimly as he stood up; the 'memory' that Freddy had conjured up was rapidly fading from around them, and the two vampires were once again dressed in their traditional leather coats. "_That's _your one little weakness on your home ground, Freddy; you can conjure up people's nightmares while in the dream world, but you can only conjure up one nightmare at a time."

"We read your file- well, _he _read it; I didn't have much choice in the matter," Angelus continued, folding his arms as he smirked at their adversary, "and even when dealing with those 'Dream Master' chicks, you could only ever attack one person with their fears at a time; you could _not _take on multiple victims at once. You can attack Soul-Boy here, or you can attack me, but you _can't _attack _both _of us; we're too different to fear the _same _thing."

"Which means," Angel stated, as he and Angelus raised their left and right hands respectively, two large swords appearing in their hands as they stared grimly at Freddy, "that, right now, you are in _serious _trouble, _buddy_."

With that, the two vampires instantly lashed out at Freddy with their blades, a simultaneous sweep of their swords striking their foe in the chest with a force that would have practically gutted him if he'd still had an actual body. As it was, Freddy managed to move backwards fast enough to escape the blades- it was hard to kill him when they weren't even _in _the real world, after all- but it still left long scars on his chest. Refusing to let up on their opponent, the two vampires continued to slash away at Freddy's battered 'body', moving their swords in a lethal ballet of speed and striking power that almost resembled a lawnmower with its speed and ferocity.

"Eat _this_!" the two vampires yelled, smirking at their adversary as a blow from both swords left two long cuts on either side of Freddy's face, sending blood streaming into his eyes as he raised his hands to his face.

"Oh yeah!" Angelus chuckled as he looked at Freddy, staggering around blindly as he clutched at his bleeding face. "You are _so _going down, asshole!"

Suddenly, much to Angel's surprise, the sword in his counterpart's hand vanished, to be replaced by…

"A chainsaw?" Angel said, raising an eyebrow as he looked critically at the object Angelus now held in his hand.

Angelus shrugged.

"I always wanted to use it, y'know," he said, as he turned to look at Freddy with a broad smile. "Now then, are you ready to die?"

Without even waiting for an answer, Angelus lunged towards his adversary, the chainsaw buzzing as it aimed for the centre of Freddy's chest…

Then there was a sudden distortion of the world around them, and, much to the shock of both vampires, they suddenly found themselves pinned to a statue by a large sword, sticking right _through _their chests- fortunately just below the heart- as they heard a faint whirl and crackle of energy coming from behind them.

Neither of them needed Freddy's costume - a black V-neck sweater, black trousers and shoulder-length blonde hair, making him look like some wannabe drag queen who couldn't be bothered to make a real effort- to guess what _this _scenario was from.

"Oh crap," the two said simultaneously as they looked at each other, dread clear all over their faces.

Somehow, Freddy had managed to discover the one thing that terrified both of them _equally_…

The memory of the time that Buffy had been forced to send Angel to Hell.

Just because _Angel _had been the one in control when Angelus was stabbed didn't mean that it hadn't hurt for _both _of them…

_Both of them_…

If Angel hadn't been concentrating so much on reminding himself that this was _not _reality, he might have kicked himself for being so foolish as to forget their remaining advantage.

No matter how powerful Freddy might be, he was still just one mind trying to attack _two _minds simultaneously. He may be calling upon one of their most prominent memories, but the fact remained that he was going up against older, more experienced opponents with only the fact that they were fighting on _his _familiar 'hunting-ground' in his favour, and even that was of questionable use to Freddy right now.

_This is it_… Angel thought as he tensed his mental muscles, not even needing to look to see that Angelus was doing the same thing. _It's risky, but it's our _only _shot right now_…

With that thought, he reached over towards his counterpart, straining desperately against the pain in his chest from the sword as he reached out with his right arm, his fingertips mere centimetres from getting a decent grip on Angelus.

He didn't need to worry about that for long, though; almost as soon as his arm began to move towards his other self, Angelus had realised what he was planning, and had reached up to grab his ensouled 'brother' by the hand. The moment the two vampires had made contact, they closed their eyes and focused as hard as they could on the idea that could be their last hope of defeating this new opponent.

_Come _on_…_ Angel groaned in his mind, his chest muscles straining against the pain from the sword as the portal behind them dragged the two of them further and further into the Hell that the two of them had endured for almost five hundred years. _Do it… this is _our _mind… Freddy is _not _in control here_…

Then, just as Angel was about to give up, he felt it; there was a brief _shift _around them, and he and Angelus were once again standing without a large sword sticking through them, as Freddy automatically found himself pinned in front of Alcathla with the blade in question through him.

"GAAARRRGGGHHH!" the dream-based killer screamed, raising his hands in a desperate attempt to pull the blade out his chest as he was slowly but surely dragged towards the portal behind him.

"Funny thing about attacking _two _people with the _same _memory, Freddy m'boy," Angel stated, folding his arms and grinning at the screaming killer before him. "Not only do you get the same memory twice over, but, when we focus… we can turn it _against_ you with _twice _the pain that _either _of us ever felt at the time."

"Plus, of course," Angelus added, looking with a small smile at Freddy as he was dragged further towards the portal, "since you're in _our _mind, we can hold you in there for as long as we want."

"_What_?" Freddy yelled, looking in shock at his foes. "You _can't _do that! I am the _Lord _of dreams themselves-"

"And I've not only been keeping Angelus under lock and key for the last hundred years, but I've also overcome Eyghon when he tried to jump into me," Angel stated, folding his arms as he stared at Freddy. "Add in the fact that I'll have Angelus actually _helping _me to hold you down this time around, and you think you'll _ever _get out of here?"

"I'll be doing it too," Angelus added, looking critically at the child-killer as he was forced even closer to the portal behind him. "I mean, as I said, I'm not going to _let _you kill Soul-Boy, and there's nothing you can do that could make me _want _to allow you to go free- I'd never know that you wouldn't just come back again to finish what you started here- so, from here on in, consider me your 'jailer'."

"And trust me," Angel added, smirking nonchalantly at his adversary as the portal began to distort Freddy's body, "we can create a mental landscape of Hell that is _so_ detailed… so painful… so _unbearable_… you wouldn't know the difference between it and the reality."

"_You can't do this to me_!" Freddy screamed, as he desperately slashed out at the vampires with his gloved hand, apparently unaware or unconcerned about the distance between him and them. "_I am IMMORTAL_!"

"Oh, you won't be _dying_; you just won't be able to get out," Angelus smirked, as Freddy began to fall those last few inches into the mental portal behind him. "See you around in the subconscious; give my regards to Eyghon if he's still in there."

"_NNNNOOOOoooo_…!" Freddy screamed, before he finally fell through the portal behind him, vanishing into the 'hole' and into the 'Hell' that the vampires had spent almost half a millennia in before they had managed to return home.

Admittedly, both Angel and Angelus knew that Freddy wasn't _actually _in Hell- he had only been sent to the part of their mind that contained the suppressed memories of their time there- but it was close enough to the real thing to make no difference.

"Damn…" Angelus muttered to himself, as he glanced over at his other self. "_That _was wild."

"Tell me about it…" Angel sighed, before he stretched slightly and looked back at his inner demon. "Well… I guess I'll be out of here."

"Oh yeah…" Angelus said, smiling slightly as he turned to look at Angel. "About that…"

With that, he hurled a punch at Angel, sending the other vampire staggering backwards from the sheer force of the blow.

"Did you _really _think I'd just _let _you leave here after giving me this kind of opening?" he said, grinning maliciously at his ensouled counterpart. "Killing you may not be an option, but knocking you out so that _I'm _the one in charge? That's a whole other-"

Whatever else Angelus might have to say was destined never to be revealed; taking advantage of the brief pause in his counterpart's attack, Angel lashed out with a powerful kick to Angelus's face, sending him flying backwards as blood spurted from his damaged mouth.

"You know, Spike was right; you _do _talk too much," Angel said, as he looked grimly at his long-time adversary. "If you honestly thought I wouldn't be _ready _for you to try and betray me, you're not half as smart as some people seem to think you are."

As Angelus stared dazedly back at his counterpart, Angel spread his arms, smiling slightly at his other self as he stood there.

"Keep Freddy where we stuck him," he said.

Despite his bleeding mouth, as he looked back at his old 'enemy', Angelus couldn't help but smile slightly.

"You know me, Soul-Boy," he replied, relatively nonchalantly. "When I have to do something, I _do _it."

"I know," Angel replied simply.

The truth was, as odd as it might have seemed, Angel _knew _he could count on Angelus to keep the Springwood Slasher 'imprisoned'. Angelus may be everything about his past that he truly hated, but, after almost a hundred years in more-or-less constant conflict with the vampire, the vampire with a soul knew that Angelus would make sure that Freddy Krueger remained where they'd stuck him.

He and Angelus would never be _friends_, but they could always count on the other when they needed to stay alive.

With that done, Angel closed his eyes, felt his surroundings blur around himself…


	14. Divide and Conquer

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the members of the Coven, nor do I own the Coven's allies, or the various members of the Gathering

Feedback: I'd appreciate that, trust me

AN: I sincerely apologise for the delay; real life's been tricky and I have had a SERIOUS case of writer's block for this chapter

The Gathering of Supernatural Psychopaths

As the initial golden glow of teleportation via Goldlighter had faded, Spike found himself standing in the middle of a seemingly deserted street, critically studying his surroundings before he glanced back at his allies.

"You sure you got the right place here, Colely-boy?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as he studied his resurrected ally/adversary. "Looks kind of quiet for somewhere that the Gathering are visiting, if you catch my drift-"

"Given that one of our few _advantages _against these people is the element of surprise, I hardly thought it advisable for us to just drop into the middle of their current fight and take them on without even trying to come up with a plan," Cole countered, folding his arms as he stared critically at the vampire. "You heard what John said; his spell can only provide us with the basic details of the Gathering's location, and he's the closest thing we've got to an experienced magic user. If we can't pinpoint _exactly _where they are, teleporting us directly to where we think they are means that I'd be running the risk of arriving where the Violator's just about to impale somebody; this way takes us a while longer to arrive, but we at least have more of a choice in what we do when we get there."

"Besides," Constantine added, as he indicated where Jason Voorhees's large, still form even now stood off to the side, looking at them with what could have been an almost sullen expression if the mask hadn't made it practically impossible to be sure, "I wanted to give us a chance to talk to this guy _without _just shoving him directly into the fight; he's an ally, not a weapon, and we _have _to treat him like one."

"Gotcha; be nice to the dude," Hellboy muttered, as he briefly examined his Samaritan before snapping it shut and turning to look at Jason. "You coming along, Mask-Boy?"

Glancing up at Hellboy, Jason momentarily looked confused, as though trying to understand what had just been said to him, but then nodded.

"Sttttt….op… paaaaaaain…" he whispered, his throat still weak from long lack of use, to say nothing of all he'd endured over the long, destructive years since the death of his mother.

"Yeah… sure thing, bud," Spike said, nodding briefly at Jason as they began to walk. A part of him was itching to point that Jason was hardly one to talk about stopping people from causing pain after all the crap he'd done in his life, but Constantine had given him a strict warning about that; if Spike made any insulting comments to Jason, he could very well screw up the fragile trust Jason had apparently begun to develop for them.

Plus, there was the possibility that Jason would just attack him if Spike hacked the guy off; vampire or no, Spike did _not _want to face that sucker in a fight unless he had absolutely no other option available to him whatsoever.

"Right then," Cole said, nodding briefly at Jason and Constantine as he glanced over at Hellboy. "Hellboy, you're the strongest of us; you take the lead and just head down that street," he explained, pointing down a nearby alley as he spoke. "The Gathering members we saw should be down that way; if they start attacking us, you're the best equipped to cope with whatever they have to throw at you."

"Right then," Hellboy said, nodding grimly as he raised his weapon and turned to look down the street that Cole had indicated, "let's move out and kick some ass."

With that said, the rest of the Coven raised their own weapons- the Holy Shotgun for Constantine, the machete for Jason, a sword for Spike and Cole just flexed his fingers to prepare to launch an energy ball- and began to march down the alley, Hellboy's eyes fixed at the street before him as he prepared to fight at a moment's notice if the need arose.

* * *

After a momentary blackness as he departed from Angelus, Angel felt a slight pain in his neck, and realised that he was back in his body; he must have fallen asleep in an awkward position.

"Angel?" a voice said from off to one side, Leo's anxious face appearing in Angel's field of vision a few seconds later. "Are you OK?"

"About as well as you'd expect…" Angel groaned as he slowly pushed himself back up onto his feet, glancing around the room as he did so; Constantine, Spike, Hellboy, Cole and Jason were absent, but Spawn, Blade, Illyria and Leo were still in the room, sitting around a table with various cards in their hands. "Where are the others?"

"We had reports of an attack by the Gathering on another location down on Earth," Spawn explained, as he and the others stood up, leaving their cards face-down on the table in the middle of the room as they walked back over to their leader. "Constantine decided to take the others down to see if they could find out anything about the Gathering's long-term strategy; it was only the Creeper, Pinhead and Drusilla down there, so he figured they could hold the line with those guys until you got back on your feet."

"Talking of which, how'd the fight with that child-killing fuckface go?" Blade inquired, raising an inquiring eyebrow at his leader. "You take him down?"

"He's stuck in the back of my head with all my memories of my time in Hell and no way out," Angel replied, a slight smile on his face at the thought of what the Springwood Slasher was most likely going through right at this moment. "Trust me; he is _not _getting out any time soon."

"Good," Blade said, nodding briefly in approval before he assumed a more business-like expression once again. "Now then, you want us to go down and help the others, or you think this is a case of 'Too Many Cooks' and all that crap?"

Angel chuckled slightly at that.

"Trust me, Blade; as far as I'm concerned, you can _never _have too many people helping you beat up the bad guys… particularly _these _bad guys," he said, before he glanced over at the others. "How about you guys? Feeling up for a fight?"

"You truly feel the need to ask that question of me, half-breed?" Illyria inquired, looking at Angel with a slight smile on her face.

Angel chuckled.

"Not really; I just like to make sure," he replied, before he turned to look at Spawn and Leo. "The same for you two, I assume."

"We're there," Spawn said grimly.

"What he said," Leo added, placing a comradely hand on Spawn's shoulder. "Just give me a weapon and I'll do what I can."

"Right then," Blade said, a slight smile on his face as he drew his sword, Angel, Illyria and Leo selecting their own weapons from the room's weapons' rack, "how do we get down there; Leo or Spawn?"

"I'll do it," Spawn said, as he glanced over at Leo with a slightly apologetic shrug. "No offence, but I think my teleportation can be a bit more subtle than your means of getting around; I'll be trying to set us down a bit closer than Cole might have stuck them, and glowing white lights don't _really _make for a good stealth approach."

"Fair enough," Leo said, nodding in agreement as he gave a short sword a few experimental swipes in the air before nodding in resolution. The Whitelighter never particularly liked wielding weapons, but he had acknowledged the importance of going into a fight with something he could use against his enemy. "In any case, I joined the Coven to be the healer for the team; I don't particularly mind either way about what else I do so long as I'm helping."

"Right then," Angel said, as he looked over at Spawn, "think you can get us down somewhere a bit of a distance away from the Gathering _and _the rest of the team? If they've already reached the Gathering, attacking them from a different angle than the last attack may give us an extra edge."

"Gotcha," Spawn said, nodding in understanding as he flexed his shoulders, a slight smirk spreading across his face as he allowed his cloak to spread out from his shoulders and 'envelop' his allies in the Coven. "Let's go."

With that, the large red cloak spread out to surround the five people still standing in the room, there was a brief shimmer in the air in front of their eyes…

* * *

As the Coven members walked slowly through the streets, stopping every time they heard someone approaching them- it was never anything more than a normal man or woman, presumably heading home after a late day's work, and always going away from where the Coven believed the Gathering were located-, each of them kept an ear out for any sign that the Gathering were doing what they did best. It wasn't long before they finally heard the sound they had been waiting for- if 'waiting' was the correct term for something they'd been dreading since arriving down here-; the sound of screams and tearing flesh as the Gathering's members did what they did best.

"_Great_," Spike groaned, wincing slightly as he heard the Gathering members continue to tear their way through innocent people; judging by the fact that the screams seemed to be coming from some distance above them, they were in one of the nearby apartment buildings. "We're going up… _just _what we needed."

"Definitely need to remember to work on that spell when we get back," Constantine muttered, as he studied the building before them; if he squinted, he could just make out a faint smear of blood on the inside of one of the windows. "If I'd _just _picked up that they were a bit higher than ground level, we might have come up with a better plan for dealing with this thing…"

"Ah well," Hellboy said dismissively, as he raised his gun to his shoulder and nonchalantly studied the building before them, "if I wanted an easy life, I'd have gone into construction rather than demon-busting."

Looking over at the others once again, he raised a casual eyebrow as he jerked his stone thumb at the building before them. "So, shall we kick their arses, or stand out here just _talking _about it?"

"What do you _think_?" Spike grinned, as he flexed his neck and looked up at the sight before them. "We're the Coven of Reformed Supernaturals, Hellboy; we show 'em what we think of people who _don't _get why we didn't like our old way of doing things."

"OK then," Cole said, smiling slightly as he spread his arms out to grab Spike and Constantine's shoulders, those two subsequently placing a hand on Hellboy and Jason respectively. "I'm aiming for the floor that the Gathering members are on at the moment. Get ready… here we…"

There was another brief golden glow, and they were standing in the middle of a dimly lit corridor only just large enough to allow Hellboy to walk through it without scraping against the walls or the ceiling.

"…go," Cole smiled, as the Coven members removed their hands from each other's shoulder and arms and looked around for their adversaries. For a moment Spike thought they'd arrived on the wrong level- it seemed rather quiet for somewhere where the Gathering were at work- but then a scream sounded from through one of the nearby doors, and the Coven members instantly shifted into action. Checking his gun one last time to make sure it was fully stocked with bullets, Hellboy strode forward and kicked the door down in front of him, the grim expression on his face making it clear that, if whatever was on the other side of the door was one of the Gathering, it was going to get what was coming to it.

As the five members of the Coven stepped into the room before them, even Spike and Cole, with their long experience of _causing _variously brutal forms of death, winced at the sight of the mutilated bodies spread out before them; evidently, whoever had just screamed was no longer among the living. Some limbs had been arranged in a twisted pattern that resembled some particularly demented pattern of modern art, while others were still pinned to the wall through various means, ranging from spikes through the hands or feet to chains wrapped around the joints.

Given Spike's knowledge of Drusilla, he was prepared to bet that she was the one behind the 'artwork' style of what had been done with the various limbs before them. The impalement thing struck him as more in line with what he'd read in the files about Pinhead's methods, particularly given the apparently methodical yet thorough way that the impaled limbs had apparently been removed from their original 'owners'.

"Ah, my platinum knight!" Drusilla smiled from where she was currently arranging another couple of limbs in an apparent 'S' shape, standing up to grin at Spike and drawing his attention back to his sire and former lover. "You came back for me!"

"Don't make me do this, luv," Spike growled, raising his hands into a combat position as he glared at the woman who'd made him what he had become all those years ago, but who, in some perverse way, would always hold a part of his heart. The other members of the Coven kept their weapons trained on Pinhead and Drusilla, but nevertheless remained silent while Spike faced Drusilla, knowing that their friend needed this. "You can still leave here before things get ugly; just don't _do _this, got me?"

"Don't do what, my little Spike?" Drusilla asked, looking at him in honest confusion, Pinhead simply stepping back from the torso he'd just pinned to the wall to look inquiringly at the new arrivals as though he was waiting for a signal of some kind. "I only want to bring you back to me the way the naughty Slayer set Daddy free to help with the Judge…"

"Far as I'm concerned, I _am _back now, Dru; you can't fix what ain't broke," Spike stated, glaring coldly at the woman he once would have done anything to keep by his side. "Got my soul, got my mind, and got a team who accept me as I am and help me deal with the crap that I used to cause; don't see what else I might need beyond that."

"What you need is to be who you are _meant _to be, my little Spike," Drusilla said, looking almost pityingly at him. "Soul cages you more than the chip did, but it still cages you; you should be running freely through the world, not tied down by false ideas, bound by the naughty, lying green-eyed shaman who gave you what you asked for but not what you wanted-"

"Hold on; not what he _wanted_?" Constantine interjected, looking critically at Drusilla. "What do you mean, he didn't get what he _wanted_?"

"Look, we're here to _kill _the buggers, not _talk _to them-" Spike protested as he glanced over impatiently at the exorcist; he acknowledged that his motives when he went to that shaman hadn't been perfect, but he hardly wanted it rubbed in his face.

"He didn't tell you?" Drusilla asked, smiling slightly as she looked between Spike and the other Coven members behind him, Pinhead walking over to stand behind her as though awaiting a signal of some kind. "Naughty Spike… you lied to your friends?"

"I wasn't who I am now when I wanted that," Spike retorted, a momentary look of panic flashing across his face before he seemed to collect himself. "I've changed since then-"

"So much so that a little part of you still doesn't want to see the Slayer dead at your feet?" Drusilla chuckled, looking teasingly at him. "Soul can only chain you down, it can't change what you are underneath, like dirty mud trying to conceal the diamond within-"

"No offence, but I find it hard to imagine that what Spike was before the soul and the chip could be called a diamond by _any _stretch of the imagination," Constantine interrupted, a grim expression on his face as he glanced over at Spike in a slightly apologetic manner before he returned to glaring at Drusilla. "Look, lady, any chance you could just shut up now and save us all the bother of kicking your ass? If you're thinking you can turn us all against each other, that's _not _gonna happen…"

Drusilla sighed.

"_No_, you silly Sherlock; that's not what I'm planning at all," she said, looking at him as though he was a child who'd told her that two plus two equalled five and couldn't accept that he was wrong. "Aren't you forgetting the glorious winged one who was with us when you saw us in your globe?"

Constantine barely had time to realise that Drusilla had just raised a valid point- the Creeper _had _been visible when he and the others had received the warning on the room's alert system- before there was a sudden loud screech and the animal in question tore through a nearby wall. The Coven had barely had time to register what had happened before the new arrival collided with Hellboy, sending him flying back not only through the door they'd just entered by, closely followed by another crash that could only be Hellboy and the Creeper as they tore through the wall just past the door.

_Aw, crap_, Constantine thought to himself, as he glanced back in the direction that the two demons- or whatever the Creeper really was- had just flown, Hellboy's large bulk and the Creeper's wings only just visible over the lights of the city.

They'd ended up letting their guard down, and as a result, they'd just lost their most powerful member, leaving them to deal with a psychotic vampire who had a serious history with one of their number and a superhumanly durable sadist who loved nothing more than to inflict pain on people and was practically impossible to kill, with only a vampire, an exorcist, a Goldlighter who was still learning what he could do these days, and a murderer in a mask whose loyalties were still at least slightly questionable.

He didn't doubt that his allies would do their best, of course, but even without Spike's history with Drusilla and Jason's questionable mental state- did he have enough of a mind left to deal with a threat that he couldn't overpower or outlast in a head-to-head confrontation?- to take into account, that still left the issue of whether Pinhead could summon _other _Cenobites to help him in the fight if things didn't quite go his way.

_It's official_, Constantine groaned to himself as Drusilla and Pinhead turned to smirk at the remaining four Coven members, _we're in _serious_ trouble right now_.

* * *

Once the shimmer had faded, the five supernatural-based warriors found themselves standing once again in the middle of a partially deserted street, the faint sounds of combat only a short distance away from them and apparently a couple of dozen metres or so up from their current location.

"Damn," Spawn groaned, as he glanced back over at Angel. "Sounds like the damn party started without us."

"Ah well," Angel said, shrugging casually as he drew his sword in preparation for the upcoming battle, "we might as well make the most of it; it's unlikely they could have dealt with the other side already."

"I am unclear whether that is intended as an insult about the skills of the other members of our team or as a compliment to the strength of our opponents," Illyria inquired, looking inquiringly over at Angel.

Before Angel could reply, the sound of glass and plaster breaking was heard over the sounds of fighting, followed by a distant, painful-sounding thump as whatever it was hit the roof, accompanied by a loud screeching sound that Spawn instantly recognised.

"It's the Creeper!" he yelled, looking anxiously over at his friends. "It's attacking Hellboy; we have to help him!"

"Right," Angel said, looking grimly up at the rooftop where the thump had come from; from here he could just make out the edges of wings that looked like what he'd seen of the Creeper's wings in Mid-Nite's files, but that was far more than he wanted to see of a creature that was about to attack one of his colleagues. "Spawn, you've fought that thing before; you and Blade go up there and see what you can do about helping Hellboy deal with it. The rest of you, you're with me; we've got to get the others _out of there_!"

The Coven didn't even stop to question their leader's orders; as soon as the former Scourge of Europe had finished speaking, they had split up, Angel, Leo and Illyria heading for their allies as Spawn's cape wrapped around Blade and the two vanished in a brief blaze of fire.

Even as he ran, Angel could only pray that they hadn't arrived too late to help their friends…


	15. Round Four: The Death of Drusilla

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the members of the Coven, nor do I own the Coven's allies, or the various members of the Gathering

Feedback: I'd appreciate that, trust me 

The Gathering of Supernatural Psychopaths

For a moment, there was stillness in the apartment as the two sides glared at each other, each of them ready to move the moment their adversaries started. Even Jason was still for the moment, his limited intellect apparently knowing without needing to be told what they were dealing with here.

The rules of combat were so simple even Jason could understand them. 

The first one to move would almost certainly lose.

The Coven may have two-to-one odds, but with Constantine being only human and Cole and Jason's strength only slightly higher than the human norm- Jason's main 'power' lay in how difficult it was to put him down in the first place rather than in the amount of damage his fists could deliver; in a hand-to-hand confrontation he was normally just strong enough to take down a conventional opponent without being actually superhumanly strong-, and Drusilla and Pinhead both possessing a potentially-significant-but-unknown strength level, that left only Spike as the current group's 'powerhouse'.

That fact alone was more than enough to make Constantine _very _uncomfortable about their chances. Spike was a good combatant, of course- he hadn't taken out two Slayers in his evil days and lived for over a hundred years by being a pushover, after all-, but if they were relying exclusively on him in a situation where their enemy had twice as many people to hit and far more likelihood of doing lethal damage if they did so, Constantine doubted that the vampire would be enough to turn the tide in their favour.

_So_, Constantine mused to himself as he mentally made sure he'd remembered to reload the Holy Shotgun before entering the apartment, _we've got a four-on-two fight where the other side has a lot more raw power, to say nothing of one of them being potentially impossible to kill, and all we've really got going for us is numbers_.

After a moment, the two-time suicide finally lost patience with this little stand-off; it wasn't helping anybody right now.

_If we're going to die anything_, he mused, raising the Shotgun and cocking it as he aimed at Pinhead, _might as well die on our terms rather than the other guy's_.

As soon as he'd fired the weapon, everything started happening at once. He barely had time to see the pellets hit Pinhead- they didn't do much damage, but it at least gave him some idea of the sucker's speed capabilities- before the Cenobite was charging towards him, hands raised as though he was intending to grab Constantine's throat. Taking care to avoid hitting Pinhead in the face- he wasn't sure how sharp those pins were, but he'd rather not find out the hard way- Constantine launched a powerful kick at his foe's stomach, striking the Cenobite underneath whatever passed for his ribs and sending him staggering back. Even as Constantine moved out of harm's way, Spike was moving in to launch his own assault, hitting Pinhead twice in the chest with a couple of quick punches and following them up with his own kick to the creature's chest.

"Oh, _yeah_!" Spike said, grinning as he clenched his fist in victory. "How do you like _that_, you needle-faced ponce?"

It was only when Pinhead looked back at Spike with no more apparent concern for Spike's recent attack than a normal human being would show from being lightly hit by a small child that Spike re-evaluated his hopes on how this fight was going to turn out.

"An effective attempt against most individuals, William the Bloody," Pinhead replied simply, looking at the vampire before him in a casual manner. "It is too bad for you that it will not suffice in this instance."

Raising one hand, Pinhead casually pointed at Spike, and instantly the vampire's arms and legs were yanked in four different directions by large, sharp chains, each of them wrapped around his ankles and wrists and clearly already drawing blood.

Despite the fact that he had his own concerns right now, Constantine couldn't help but be puzzled; while that method may not have been the worst thing Pinhead could have done in this situation, it _did _cause a significant amount of pain over the longest possible length of time.

_That's odd_… Constantine reflected, his mind racing over the information he'd learned regarding Cenobites following Pinhead's arrival on the scene; he'd sent a brief request to Midnite while the Coven were preparing to accommodate Jason, and received a brief file that he'd glanced over before heading back into the field. _Pinhead should be starting with the maximum amount of pain as soon as possible; why would he start with something relatively small? He's sadistic, but he's not_ _brutal enough to keep people waiting; he studies their physical reaction, not their _emotional _one, so getting them scared wouldn't make sense. What's with the sudden change of strategy here…?_

For a moment, as Pinhead's attention was focused on Spike, Constantine's eyes widened as a possible explanation for the shift in Pinhead's behaviour occurred to him, based on what he'd read of a past confrontation this guy had had with a journalist called Joanne Summerskill, after a particularly ugly fight with some Channard guy had resulted in Pinhead's human and Cenobite sides being torn apart.

If what he'd read about that encounter in the file was accurate, and if they could track the Gathering to whatever passed for their HQ at some point in the future, they might _just _have a chance to turn _this _guy against his fellow Psychopaths as well…

Then Spike screamed as the chains wrapped around his wrists and ankles suddenly sprouted sharp hooks, digging into his skin and coming dangerously close to his veins- Constantine wasn't sure if vampires _could _bleed to death, given that their hearts weren't beating, but he wasn't in the mood to find out the direct way-, and Constantine's priorities had to shift once again.

He could worry about the reason for Pinhead's increased brutality later; right now, he had a vampire to save.

* * *

As Hellboy blearily blinked his eyes open after hitting the roof several metres away from where he'd originally been standing, he barely managed to stop himself from letting out more than the slightest groan from the pain of the impact he'd just sustained.

In some ways, his strength was both an advantage and a disadvantage when it came to fights like this; while it made him the hardest member of the Coven to hurt, the irregularity with which he encountered something capable of injuring him that badly meant that he had little opportunity to get used to feeling pain. As a result, while it was tough to hurt him in the first place, the lack of encounters he had with something capable of doing so made it all the more debilitating for him when he actually _was _injured. 

Maybe he ought to consider trying to tackle a few of the Coven's more potentially tricky cases by himself; might be as good a way as any to work on his ability to cope with some of the _really _tough guys the Coven seemed to be attracting since they'd formed this little 'group' of cross-dimensional ass-kickers…

Then he saw the Creeper hurtling down towards him, its teeth, claws, and wing-talons bared, and forced his mind back on track.

He could think about means of improving his pain threshold later; right now, he had some freaky zombie/demon/whatever to take out, and he was putting this bastard down.

After what this bastard had almost done to Spawn in the Coven's last fight against the Gathering- God, the thing was still 'wearing' Spawn's freakin' _head_, for crying out loud!-, he was _definitely _going to enjoy this bit…

The guy may not have been on the team that long, but the fact remained; Spawn was a member of the Coven of Reformed Supernaturals, and the Coven always protected its own. 

_After all_, Hellboy mused to himself as he started to get back up while glaring at the sight before him, _if _we _don't give a shit about each other, who else will_?

It was a slightly grim thought, but it was the truth; after what the Coven's members had been through over the years, with their members making deals with demons or being corrupted against their will, they rarely had anyone else to care about them but each other. Leo had his family, of course, but he was more of an honorary member than an actual 'Reformed Supernatural'…

Shaking those thoughts off to the side, Hellboy tried to bring his focus back to the battle at hand; he could reflect about the Covens' isolation from the world at large later. However, just as he was scrambling to his feet to prepare for the upcoming fight, the Creeper's feet crashed into his chest, sending him crashing back to the ground as the bat-zombie-thing flew upwards again.

_Damn_… Hellboy groaned mentally, clutching his now-painful chest as he looked up at his airborne enemy.

For something that looked so thin, that thing could definitely _hit_…

And even worse, given its speed and ability to fly, it was practically impossible for him to take it down if it continued its current 'hit-and-run' strategy; he was good with raw power, but hit-and-run strategies could easily wear him out. 

It was official; once this was over, he was _definitely _going to ask Blade and Constantine for some shooting lessons in case he was ever in this kind of situation later.

_That's assuming there _is _a later for me after this fight's over_… he groaned mentally, as the Creeper began to charge down towards him once again. Clenching his stone right hand, Hellboy prepared to move to defend himself from sustaining more serious injuries, even as he knew it probably wouldn't do any good…

"Hey, Wing-boy!" a voice said from behind Hellboy as the Creeper hurtled towards him. "Bite _these_!"

Instantly, two spike chains made of some unidentified substance- it looked like metal, but Hellboy had enough experience with metal to know that this object didn't quite smell right for that- flew past Hellboy's head and struck the Creeper's wings, instantly impaling the monstrosity before him moments before three bullets struck it in the end, sending it reeling back even before the chains hurled him over the edge of the building.

At the precise moment, Hellboy could think of only one person in his life who could possibly own those chains, and of the two people who used a gun, one of them favoured a weapon with a wider blast radius that wouldn't have done that kind of 'focused' damage to its targets.

"Blade? Spawn?" Hellboy said, spinning around to stare in surprise at his allies, standing on the rooftop behind him, Spawn's cloak and Blade's leather coat blowing in the wind behind them. "What are you two doing here?"

"What's it look like, Red?" Blade asked, glancing back at Hellboy with a slight smirk as he drew his sword, jerking his head in the direction that their opponent had just fallen. "We're saving your sorry ass from the freakshow over there."

With that said, he turned to look at Spawn in an inquiring manner. "Just out of curiosity, does the asshole still have those bits of your powers he nicked from you in the last showdown?"

"Uh… as far as I know, yeah," Spawn replied, nodding in slight confusion at his hybrid associate. "Why?"

"Need to get a better picture of what kind of battle we're facing," Blade replied briefly, before he looked over at Hellboy, the hybrid once again displaying the tactical mind that had elevated him to the position of the Coven's second-in-command. "You're in some supernatural spy organisation, right?"

"Yeah…" Hellboy confirmed, nodding slightly at Blade with an evidently confused expression on his face. "What's that got to do with anything?"

"Just wondered if you knew anything that might let us stick the power that Creeper thing nicked back into our colleague here," Blade elaborated, breaking open his gun and swiftly reloading it as he spoke; taking his cue from the Coven's second-in-command, Hellboy swiftly checked the Samaritan to make sure its chambers were full before he turned back to look at the hybrid with a slight shake of his head. "You work with magic on a regular basis; thought you might have a spell or two we could use."

"Sorry, but I'm more of the 'hit 'em until they're dead' kinda guy," he said, somewhat apologetically. "Any magic I use was typically only because it was the only way to take the other bugger out; typically one of the other guys on my team handled the spellwork side of things while I just hit the bastard a lot."

"OK, so much for _that _plan…" Blade muttered half to himself, before he turned his gaze back towards Spawn. "You know what he's capable of better than anyone right now; don't suppose _you've_ got a trick up your sleeve you could try to stop this bastard?"

Spawn paused for a moment at his teammate's query, clearly thinking about something, before he nodded slowly.

"I _might _have something…" he said, looking thoughtfully over at the hybrid as he tapped his chin with one hand. "But it isn't exactly foolproof; the last time I tried it I was down in the Malebolgia's dimension and my powers had been significantly augmented, so that might have played a part in me being able to do it in the first place…"

Before either Blade or Hellboy could ask their new colleague to elaborate on what he was talking about, a loud screech of rage was heard from behind them, causing to spin around and stare in horror at the newly-returned form of the Creeper, now hovering in the air before them as its hands glowed green with the ectoplasmic energy that it had stolen from Spawn. 

Even after everything he'd seen, both in his pre-Coven life and since he'd joined the team, Blade instantly categorized the monstrosity before him as one of the most disturbing things he'd ever seen in his life.

"You've got something you can use against this asshole, huh?" Blade asked, glancing over at Spawn as he stared grimly at the Creeper as it hovered before them, clearly ready to strike with the power it had stolen from Spawn at any moment.

"It's all I can think of at the immediate moment, anyway," Spawn replied. "As I said, though, I only tried it once and the circumstances then weren't what they are now; I may not be able to pull it off…"

"Looks like now's as good a time as any to find out if you can," the Daywalker said grimly, reaching up to make sure his glasses remained on his face. "Go for it."

Spawn didn't need to be told twice. Raising his hand as he glared at the thing before him that wore his old head (And God, wasn't _that _a weird thing to be thinking?), the former black ops assassin narrowed his eyes and clenched his outward fist as though he had grabbed something out of mid-air. Instantly green bursts of necrotic energy leapt from his eyes to connect with the Creeper's own, the Creeper's ears, nose and mouth simultaneously emitting the same green energy as its eyes. 

As the Creeper screamed in agony, Spawn allowed himself a brief, satisfied smirk at his opponent's pain before he proceeded to yank his hand back, a massive ball of green energy simultaneously being yanked out of the Creeper's chest to merge with the strands of energy from his eyes. As soon as the ball had made contact with the beams, it seemed to shatter, the beams subsequently seemingly being sucked back into Spawn's eyes, leaving him looking as normal as a being in his condition could ever look.

As the Creeper crashed to the ground before them, clearly stunned at what had just taken place, Spawn allowed himself a brief smirk of satisfaction.

"Payback time," he said simply.

Before the Creeper could even try to retaliate, Spawn had thrust out his chains once again, impaling the Creeper through the wings and sending the powerful monster flying backwards into a nearby building. Before the Creeper could take action to try and escape its new bonds, Blade had drawn a gun and fired it directly at the monstrosity' face, his long-practiced targeting skills allowing to hit the monster with a practiced ease that most professional marksmen would have envied. 

"Hey, Simmons?" Hellboy asked, glancing over at Spawn as the former black ops assassin kept his attention focused on the creature before him. "How strong _are _you, just out of curiosity?"

Looking back at his new teammate, Spawn smiled slightly, even as he used his chains to keep the Creeper immobilised.

"Pretty tough, really," he said simply, tilting his head to one side as he looked at Hellboy. "You read _X-Men_?"

"_Dark Phoenix Saga_'s Fastball Special?" Hellboy suggested, shrugging slightly as he grinned at Spawn. "You've got the power for that?"

"Only one way to find out," Spawn said, as he reached over to grab Hellboy's flesh arm, his armour apparently 'bulking up' as he made contact with the large red demon. "Batter up!"

With that, he hurled Hellboy towards the Creeper, the large red demon raising his stone fist to strike his opponent in the head with such force that the head was actually forced back into the wall, the right side of Spawn's original head now a mangled mess from where Hellboy's fist had struck it. Even as Hellboy began to fall towards the ground, he launched a brief, desperate kick at the Creeper's chest, leaving the creature as close to winded as it could possibly come as its foe hit the ground, his nigh-on-indestructible stone arm absorbing the brunt of the impact as he landed on the ground.

Looking grimly up at where the Creeper remained pinned to the wall above him, Hellboy chuckled slightly as he briefly examined his arm for damage (There never was any, but he always liked to make sure of it nevertheless). If he, Blade and Spawn could repeat that process once or twice, keeping the Creeper out of it long enough for them to make contact with the rest of the group and work out a better way of keeping the bastard immobile, they might _just _have a chance of getting out of this situation with the Gathering down by at least _one _other member…

Than the Creeper seemed to reach over with his left hand to touch something on his right wrist- Hellboy made a mental note to remind Spawn to immobilise the thing's arms rather than just its wings the next time they tried something like this- and vanished in a brief burst of what Hellboy could only think of as 'dark light'.

_So much for _that _little victory_, Hellboy groaned to himself, glancing over at the rooftop where Blade and Spawn were just visible as Spawn's chains retracted back into his armour. _The Gathering may be psychos, but they're not stupid; Creepy must've known he couldn't walk away from that last attack, so he ditched the situation before we could do any more damage to him._

Despite the fact that he hated the bastards, Hellboy had to admit to having a certain admiration for their tactics as he began to walk back towards the building where he'd left Blade and Spawn. The Gathering may be powerful, but they seemed to have at least a basic knowledge of how to combine power with strength; it was part of the reason they'd all survived as long as they had doing what they did.

OK, in some cases they'd mainly survived for so long because they were more or less immortal, but still, the fact remained that they still required at least _some _kind of intellect to take out as many people as they had done before they were at least immobilised for a little while. 

All in all, though, right now Hellboy could only hope that the rest of his group were still standing; Pinhead and Drusilla weren't quite in the Creeper's league in terms of raw power, as far as he knew, but he doubted that they'd be pushovers…

* * *

"Well well well, the little red man became the big gold man, mmm?" Drusilla said, smiling in her typically deranged manner as she looked at Cole Turner as he stood before her, Jason off to one side as though he still wasn't sure what he should be doing right now. "Tries to change what he is, but he'll never change what he was meant to be-"

"Nobody is _meant _to be anything, Drusilla," Cole retorted, glaring at the insane vampire seer before him as he shifted into a combat stance; with Constantine and Spike occupied by Pinhead, Jason's future actions in this fight uncertain at best, and his own physical strength no match for Drusilla's in a head-to-head fight, Cole's best bet at the moment was to keep her on the defensive, or at least on edge, until he could come up with an effective strategy to take her down; Drusilla hadn't lived this long by being slow, even if she was totally insane. "We make our own choices in life and choose our own fates; nobody's _deciding _what we'll become for us."

"And how do you explain prophecies, my demonic Arthur?" Drusilla continued, still smiling at him in a manner that made Cole want to hit her all the more even as he forced himself to wait until the right moment. "Like the prophecy that my Daddy or my Spike will become real boys, or the prophecy of what the red mountain will do if he names himself, or-"

"They just give us an _idea _of what's coming; they're never specific," Cole interjected, raising one hand to generate an energy ball as he stared at his foe, memories of an old woman revealing that she'd vanquished him in her past running through his head as he prepared for the upcoming fight. "Things can always change, Drusilla; if I learned _anything _from my time with the Halliwells, it's that the future's never fixed."

As he glanced briefly at the now fully-charged energy ball in his hand, he smiled slightly before he turned his gaze back to the vampire before him.

"Of course," he said, as casually as though he was just discussing the weather with her now, "one thing I _can _be sure of is that you're not going to be here a few minutes from now."

With that said, he thrust the energy ball directly at the woman standing opposite him, only slightly disappointed when she dived out of its path with only a slight singe-mark on one arm to indicate he'd even come close to hitting her; he was still getting used to the new energy balls not automatically focusing on his target like they had done when he was a demon, so it was only to be expected that his aim would be off when dealing with a relatively agile target like a vampire of Drusilla's age. 

_That's the problem with being a Goldlighter, I suppose_, Cole reflected briefly to himself as he ducked out of the way of a slash of Drusilla's nails. _Even if I'm a _warrior _for the good guys, the Elders still don't exactly like to make it too easy for me to kill_.

He could sympathise with their intentions, of course- after what had happened to him the last time, he definitely didn't want to become too powerful in case he suffered another bout of insanity and tried to kill innocent people once again-, but that didn't stop it being frustrating at times like this. 

"Bad little boy, aren't you?" Drusilla said, smiling dementedly at Cole as he ducked another attempt to slash at his face. "You need to learn respect for your elders-"

"Drusilla, no offence, but you're completely off your head and still play with a doll; under those particular circumstances, I don't think that anybody in their right minds would consider you my 'elder'," Cole retorted, before he reached up to grab one of Drusilla's wrists, glaring resolutely at her as he did so. 

"Now then," he continued as he glared at her, "why don't you just shut up and- AARRGGHH!" he screamed, as Drusilla suddenly twisted his arm back in a manner that he knew for a fact arms weren't meant to be twisted, following the attack up with a brief slash to his face that came dangerously close to gouging out his left eye. Even as he jerked his head back to escape the slash- he could heal from injuries, but he doubted that he'd recover from an eye injury like that before he was attacked again-, Cole felt Drusilla kick him in the chest just underneath his ribs, sending him staggering backwards, gasping for air before a sudden uppercut sent him flying back into the wall behind him.

Glancing up, he only dimly registered through the pain that Drusilla was standing above him, flexing her fingers with an anticipatory gleam in her eyes. He could dimly make out Constantine and Spike behind her- that knock to the head had taken quite a bit out of him, and the lighting in this place wasn't that great to begin with-, but they were clearly too occupied with Pinhead to be of any help to him now…

"You're a bad little boy, Mr Turner," Drusilla said, looking at him as though he was a disobedient child. "And bad boys get-"

A sudden punch to the side of her head stopped Drusilla from talking mid-sentence, sending her hurtling off to the side as Cole suddenly found himself with a few precious seconds to regain his senses.

When he had recovered enough to realise who had saved his life, he almost wondered if he'd suffered a harder knock to the head than he'd originally thought. 

"_No_," Jason Voorhees's still out-of-practice voice said, the Crystal Lake Slasher stepped forward to glare at the vampire as she looked back at him in shock, clutching at her bruised cheek as her former teammate on the Gathering stared coldly down at her. 

"No… hurt…" Jason grunted briefly as he stared down at Drusilla through his one good eye, which somehow managed to look angry despite remaining in its usual position and being at least partially concealed by Jason's mask. 

As Drusilla stared back at the Crystal Lake Slasher, clutching at her profusely bleeding shoulder as she did so, for a brief moment, Cole could have sworn that her normally insane eyes actually managed to look afraid.

Then Jason thrust his machete between Drusilla's breasts, puncturing her heart before the powerful weapon that had taken so many innocent lives took its first truly guilty one as it emerged from her back. The insane vampire seer barely even had time to scream before she turned to dust, her skeleton momentarily visible before she fell to the ground as ash around Jason's weapon.

Cole blinked slightly as he looked between Jason Voorhees and the pile of ashes that had previously comprised the sole surviving and continuously evil member of the Scourge of Europe (At least Darla, based on what Angel had told them, had temporarily reformed during her brief period as a human).

He'd known that Jason had been willing to fight with them after his talk with Constantine, of course, but to actually _see _the guy kill one of his old teammates on the Gathering…

Looking up at the serial killer, Cole smiled slightly.

"Thanks," he said simply.

Jason merely nodded in response, but Cole was nevertheless certain that he saw a faintly satisfied gleam in Jason's eye, as though he knew that he'd done a good job and was glad of it.

Glancing over at where Constantine was trying to attack Pinhead, the Cenobite casually deflecting the exorcist's attempts to punch his opponent with one hand as he continued to twist and manipulate the chains holding Spike prisoner. Despite his long experience of torture, Cole couldn't help but wince slightly as he heard the vampire scream as Pinhead's chains dug into his skin.

Even as a small, selfish part of him wanted to just leave Constantine and Spike to keep Pinhead occupied- the guy was so focused on them he barely even seemed to register that there was anybody else in the room in the first place-, the rest of Cole knew that he had no choice but to try.

"Hey, Pinny!" he yelled, generating an energy ball in one hand as Jason raised his machete, the two of them drawing Pinhead's attention as he turned to look towards them, one arm still fending off Constantine's attacks as though they were nothing.

It was his utter nonchalance, if anything, that really got Cole annoyed; after everything Constantine had done for his Earth, he didn't _deserve _to be treated so casually by a bastard like Pinhead.

"Think fast," he stated grimly, before hurling the most powerful energy ball he'd ever generated at Pinhead, Jason hurling his machete at the Cenobite at almost the same moment. As the two attacks struck home, the energy ball hitting Pinhead in the chest as the machete buried itself in his shoulder, Pinhead was sent staggering backwards, his concentration clearly broken as his chains suddenly fell to the ground and vanished, his will no longer focused on manipulating them to torture Spike. 

Cole had little doubt that such an attack would only momentarily phase a being of Pinhead's power; Cenobites may not engage in hand-to-hand combat on a regular basis, but that didn't mean they couldn't do some serious damage if they wanted to. 

Fortunately, the momentary distraction was all they needed for Constantine to turn the tables on his foe; yanking Jason's machete out of Pinhead's shoulder, Constantine slashed at the Cenobite with his new weapon, sending Pinhead staggering back with a large gash on his chest, which was swiftly joined by another machete injury. Even as Constantine kicked Pinhead in the chest, Spike was already getting to his feet, the vampire's wounds already back to a more tolerable level of pain thanks to his vampire healing, the one-time would-be poet clearly preparing himself for attack…

Then, before any of the Coven members before him could realise what was happening, Pinhead had thrust one hand out in front of himself and sent Constantine flying backwards, his brief 'flight' only barely halted when Jason caught him as he passed by the notorious serial killer.

"Impressive," Pinhead said briefly as he looked at Cole, another energy ball in the Goldlighter's hand. "We shall have to finish this later."

With that said, the Cenobite simply closed his eyes and vanished, leaving the Coven members staring at the now-empty room before them for a moment before Spike turned and saw the small pile of ash on the floor.

"Drusilla?" he asked, looking at Cole for clarification.

"Jason," Cole responded, indicating where the large man was reclaiming his machete from Constantine with what could have almost been a grateful look in his eye if they'd been sure he was really capable of displaying much emotion after all he'd been through.

Looking over at the man in the hockey mask, Spike gave their former enemy a slight smile as Jason turned back to look at him.

"Thanks," he said simply. "Not sure I could have done what you did there."

Jason didn't reply verbally, of course, but the slight gleam in his eyes was all that his new associates (None of them felt entirely comfortable calling him a friend) needed to know how he felt about the vampire's comment. 

For the first time in his life, Jason Voorhees was part of a team.

After a moment's silence, the faint sound of hurried footsteps broke the stillness that had momentarily settled over the apartment, prompting the four Coven members to turn towards the door just as Angel, Leo and Illyria came charging through the door, only to stop as they realised the notable lack of Gathering members in the room they were currently standing in.

"So," Angel said finally after a moment's pause, during which the three new arrivals took in the sight before them, "I take it we won this round?"


	16. Revelation

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the members of the Coven, nor do I own the Coven's allies, or the various members of the Gather

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the members of the Coven, nor do I own the Coven's allies, or the various members of the Gathering

Feedback: I'd appreciate that, trust me

The Gathering of Supernatural Psychopaths

A few minutes later, the Coven were once again sitting in their own little pocket dimension, each of them reflecting on the encounter that had just taken place.

"So… Jason staked Drusilla?" Angel said, looking over at Cole for clarification as he sat in his chair, a contemplative expression on his and Spike's faces.

"Yeah," Cole said, nodding briefly at his leader. "Just… rammed the machete right through her. It was over before she even seemed to know what had happened."

"Ah," Angel said simply, before he simply settled silently back into his chair, the rest of the Coven equally relaxed as they took advantage of this most likely momentary respite from combat.

None of the Coven blamed the vampires for not appearing more enthusiastic about Drusilla's death than they did at the moment; better than anyone, the Coven how it felt to be in a morally ambiguous position. Even if they had now declared themselves on opposite ends of the moral spectrum to her, Angel and Spike had together spent well over a hundred years in Drusilla's company; that kind of time together wasn't something that could be easily forgotten just because you didn't agree with what they did for leisure activities any more.

On many occasions, for all that they fought to defend humanity, the Coven had to recognise that they operated in a morally grey area; their current capture and recruitment of Jason Voorhees, for example, wasn't something that some of the Coven (Angel, Spike and Leo in particular) felt that their old allies would have appreciated having on their side, even if he did manage to get the job done well enough.

The Coven were good at their job, but none of them tried to pretend that they were the best of the good guys simply because they always made sure never to harm innocents; they were a black ops force if they were anything, using the darkness that had been forcibly made a part of them to protect those who couldn't protect themselves, and they all knew that.

"So," Hellboy said finally after a moment's silence, Angel and Spike clearly wanting a few moments to process the news they'd just learned and the rest of the Coven feeling it best to give the two vampires their privacy at a time like this, "what's our next move?"

Angel sighed.

"What else _can _we do but what we've been doing so far?" he said, leaning forward in the chair as he clasped his forehead. "We still have no idea where the Gathering are hiding out when they're not doing what they do best, to say nothing of what they're actually _doing _when they come down to Earth beyond causing chaos and killing people, and the only person who might be willing to tell us-" he briefly waved a hand over at Jason before continuing, "no offence intended to him, isn't exactly a great conversationalist."

"Plus," Leo put in, looking over at his friend at he spoke, "we can't rule out the possibility that their base is like ours; of their remaining members, only the Creeper and the Horseman can't teleport, so it's not unreasonable to assume they wait in a pocket dimension like this when they're not attacking us."

None of the Coven (With the exception of Jason, of course) could restrain a slight shudder at the mention of the Horseman. To date, the Horseman and It were the only remaining members of the Gathering that none of the Coven had faced more than once, and none of them were looking forward to the next fight.

The Creeper and Pinhead may have been just as durable as the Horseman, but at least it was possible to damage them even if it didn't stick; the Horseman, by contrast, just kept on coming no matter what was thrown at him.

And as for It…

None of them had any real idea how they were going to defeat that creature yet; defeating it physically was an exercise in futility given the range of forms it could assume, and they'd yet to uncover a single ritual or spell that could do the job. True, the children who'd fought it had been able to vanquish it with a combination of that makeshift ritual of theirs and the vocal mimicry of one of their number, but none of the Coven had the purity of belief that would be required for the ritual to work, and their senses of humour, after everything they'd gone through over the years, were nothing to particularly write home about.

"It's 'Survival of the Fittest' in action, isn't it?" Cole groaned as he leant forward I his seat. "We've taken out over half of the Gathering's original members by this point, but they still have Violator, Pinhead, the Horseman, and It available to them, none of whom are exactly going to be easy to kill no matter how hard we try."

"Tell me about it; I still can't believe that one being's done all the shit that It's file says it did," Hellboy grunted, as he pulled out a cigar and lit it as he clenched the foul-smelling thing between his teeth. "Stuck in one town since it came here, only waking up every twenty-eight years, and it's got a bigger body count than… hell, it's almost equal to what Angel's evil twin made in his time-"

"Hold on a minute here," Blade interjected, looking critically at the rest of the Coven as he leaned forward in his chair, his hands clasped before him as he thoughtfully tapped his lips with his index fingers. "As long as we're talking about what the Gathering are capable of, I'd just like to ask if anyone else gets the impression that this whole thing is just a bit too… straightforward?"

"Straightforward?" Leo repeated, looking in confusion at the half-vampire from another reality. "What do you mean, straightforward?"

"I mean," Blade elaborated, as he looked over at the Whitelighter, "it's like Cole just succinctly pointed out; none of these guys are pushovers back where they come from, and even those that are little more than henchmen- the Horseman and Drusilla- didn't get where they are today by being easy to put down. When you get down to it, we're up against a team consisting of some of the most powerful and deranged whackjobs to ever walk _any _version of Earth, and they've gathered together on the one where what may be the one team in existence that can equal them to do … what? As Angel pointed out, so far all they've done when we've fought them is kill a bunch of people and lure us into the occasional fight now and again; the only time they seemed to _pick _the target was when Chucky blew up that building with Leo's charge in it to draw our attention to them in the first place. I mean, they're tough to stop and they've definitely posed us some trouble, but when you get past that, what's the final _point _to all this shit they're doing?"

For a moment, Angel looked like he was about to say something, but then he stopped, remaining silent for a few moments before he spoke once more.

"You know, Blade makes a good point; why _would _somebody bring together a group like the Gathering and only use them to commit random murders?" the former Scourge of Europe said, confusion evident in his voice. "It _doesn't_ make sense; why go to all the trouble of bringing a group as potentially uncontrollable as the Gathering together just to kill a lot of people? You could probably achieve the same result with a punch of more conventional demons without going to all that effort; as it is, the Gathering's just a large amount of muscle that seems to be doing nothing more than hitting us around a lot. There's got to be something _more _to all of this than just somebody wanting to kill people…"

After a few moments in private reflection, Angel looked over at Spawn inquiringly.

"That Violator thing seems to be serving as the team leader, and you're the only one of us who's met him before," the vampire formerly known as the Scourge of Europe asked their new teammate. "From what I've seen so far, combined with what you told us, he clearly hates you enough to go to those kind of lengths if it would mean he could kill you, but would he have had the power to draw the other members of the Gathering together in the first?"

Spawn shook his head resolutely.

"Definitely not," the former black ops assassin stated, his expression grim as his 'mask' retreated back to reveal his burned face while he stared back at the Coven's leader. "The guy's pretty good in a fight in demon form- he pretty much sucks as the clown, of course-, but his dimension-hopping stuff seems to be limited to travelling to the Malebolgia's hell dimension and back here; I don't think he could have gone to alternate Earths to pick up some of the other guys on this team, to say nothing of the fact that he'd need to go to It's home dimension to drag it back here."

"OK," Angel said, nodding briefly at Spawn as a reflective expression spread across his face, "so we can rule him out as being the reason for the Gathering coming together, and from what we've read in the files about the other members of the Gathering, I don't think any of them could really qualify either. Most of them don't possess the power they'd need to bring the other ones here, and those that do have that power, or at least _might _have it- Pinhead and It, from what I remember of those files Midnite gave us- wouldn't have a reason to do so in the first place; none of us have faced them before, so why go to all this trouble to take us out?"

"In other words…?" Spike asked, waving a hand promptingly at his grandsire.

"The answer is obvious, half-breed," Illyria stated, as she looked scathingly over at Spike. "Since the Gathering's members lack either the power or the motive- many of them lacking both- to have brought the rest of their team together to battle us, somebody else must have been behind them. However, we have to date witnessed no more elaborate strategy motivating the Gathering's actions than random murder sprees, none of which seem to serve any purpose beyond simply drawing our attention to them…"

"Which," Constantine put in, inspiration dawning on his face, "not only implies that there's somebody else pulling the Gathering's strings that we don't know about yet, but that there's something that these attacks of theirs are meant to be drawing our attention away _from_."

As the Gathering exchanged glances with each other, all of them knew that the implications of that last statement were almost too terrible to contemplate.

Somebody _wanted _the Gathering to commit these murders.

Therefore, somebody _wanted _the Coven to keep fighting the Gathering.

Therefore, somebody was doing something that they didn't want the Coven to be available to battle, and had decided that the only way to do so was to give the Coven something else to keep themselves occupied.

And the worst part of it was that the Coven couldn't do anything about it.

As long as the Gathering continued to launch their attacks, innocent lives were at stake, and the Gathering still had access to its most powerful members; the damage they could do if left unchecked could be catastrophic.

If the Coven were going to fulfil their vows to prevent other innocents being contaminated by the evil that had tainted or ruined their lives, they _had _to fight the Gathering; they couldn't ignore a definite threat to search for a _possible _threat that may not even really exist.

So long as all the only clue they had regarding the possibility that there was even somebody pulling the Gathering's strings was the fact that the group coming together in the first place made no sense, they had no way of working out who was behind this.

All they could do was continue to go after the Gathering, and hope that they could get some information out of the more lucid members of that team regarding who had brought them together in the first place; all of them knew without even needing to say it that there was no possibility of Jason knowing anything about what they had just discussed.

For a moment, there was silence, each member of the team contemplating the implications of what they had just learned (Jason, of course, just remained silent), and then the 'alarm' went off again, alerting them to another attack from the Gathering.

Exchanging glances, the Coven all knew what their next action would be.

They could only learn who was behind the Gathering by questioning one of them, which meant that they would have to capture and question one of the more lucid members of the group- Violator and Pinhead sprung to mind- while leaving the others standing.

_This _definitely _isn't going to be easy_… Angel mused as Spawn, Cole and Leo took up their positions and prepared to orb their teammates down to the sight of the Gathering's current atrocity.

* * *

Down in the darker dimensions that even the most powerful beings on the side of good tended to avoid, the man the Coven had just been thinking about raised a surprised eyebrow as he studied the orb that gave him an inside view of their plans.

He had to admit, he'd always known that the Coven would realise that the purpose of the Gathering was to draw their attention rather than anything else; he'd been unable to devote much time to creating the illusion that the Gathering had specific targets when they were committing their crimes, particularly if he still wanted to recruit his main forces for the final assault.

However, in the end it didn't really matter much; as the Coven themselves had been forced to admit, they had to focus on the more immediate threat of the Gathering, even if it meant allowing another potential threat time to continue. So long as he didn't wait too long after the Gathering's defeat- and they _would _be defeated, he was increasingly sure of that; the Coven were indeed powerful warriors- to launch his own assault, everything should be fine.

As he shifted his observation orb to show him the current status of his candidates, he allowed himself a satisfied smirk as he witnessed his agents make contact with some of the few beings that he doubted even the Coven would manage to defeat.

Just a few more hours, and everything would be ready for his ultimate triumph…

* * *

AN: Ah, the moment I've been planning towards is coming ever closer; the final showdown between the Coven and the Gathering, leading into a story where the Coven face the ULTIMATE foe…

Any guesses as to who that will be?


	17. Round Five: Shopping Mall Showdown

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the members of the Coven, nor do I own the Coven's allies, or the various members of the Gathering

Feedback: I'd appreciate that, trust me

The Gathering of Supernatural Psychopaths

As they arrived at the location that their base had alerted them was the current site of the Gathering's atrocities, none of the Coven were able to restrain a wince as they heard the screams from the large shopping mall before them, their arrival concealed by a large truck that was parked near the mall's entrance. Glancing up at the clock positioned above the mall's entrance, Angel was relieved to note that it was at least relatively close to the mall's closing-time- clearly displayed on a nearby sign- and it was fairly dark; at least the Coven wouldn't have to worry too much about civilians being caught in the crossfire when the fighting became more serious.

"OK," he said, grimly glancing over at the other Coven members as he drew his sword, "after our victories in the last few rounds, the Gathering's remaining members are too powerful for us to risk wasting time trying to come up with a more subtle means of taking them out right now, so just hit them hard and try and keep them off-balance; if we can't stop them totally, we can at least stop them from hurting us. Spawn, you handle It if It's in there- you've got the widest range of abilities out of all of us-, and everybody else just go for whoever you want; Leo and Cole are to work on getting innocents out of there before they join us in the fight. Clear?"

After brief confirming nods from his team, Angel smiled slightly back at them before he turned around and charged towards the entrance to the mall, Hellboy immediately behind him to help encourage people to move out of their way while the rest of the Coven followed closely behind the large red demon. As Angel charged into the mall, it only took him a few moments to see the now-familiar forms of the Violator and the Creeper- the two consistently largest members (It's shape-shifting abilities meant that it could sometimes be larger or smaller depending on its current situation) of the Gathering left- throwing people around in the centre of the mall as limbs were torn and blood spilt, wide sadistic grins on their already-monstrous faces. Closer inspection revealed the grisly sight of heads or other random limbs flying away from their original owners as Kroenon and the Headless Horseman clearly did what they did best, the twisting chains that served as the trademark symbol of Pinhead, and a constantly-shifting form that made it clear that It was currently almost working overtime to mimic and invoke the fears of the people around It (Angel could vaguely make out some shapes, such as something that reminded him of the Beast, as it shifted, but evidently It wasn't putting that much effort into Its current transformations).

"GET THEM!" Angel yelled, as the Coven instantly charged towards their targets, Jason sticking close to Constantine as the two of them charged for the Creeper. As Spawn headed for the constantly-shifting form of It, Hellboy swiftly found himself facing off against Pinhead while Spike and Illyria went head-to-head with Kroenon and Blade confronted the Horseman, leaving Angel to go up against the Violator by himself as Cole and Leo turned their attention to rescuing the rest of the people in the mall.

"Ah, the vampire with a soul, mmm?" Violator said, chuckling slightly as he studied Angel. "You really made us cry down in Hell, you know; all those murders you enjoyed without your soul, and then you go and get it back and stop? Got a lot duller up here with your defection…"

"Happy to disappoint," Angel said casually, spinning his sword once in his hand as he glared up at the monster before him. "Now then, let's do this."

Before Violator could reply, Angel had leapt into the air, vaulting over Violator's head even as he activated his wrist-mounted stake launcher and plunged the weapon into the back of Violator's neck. Ordinarily the stakes that Angel concealed there would have done little to a demon of Violator's power, but since joining the Coven Angle had taken to carrying daggers rather than simple stakes in the launchers, their silver blades burning the demon's flesh as it screamed and roared in agony as the weapon penetrated whatever passed for its spine.

"You think _that _hurt?" Angel growled as he stared at his enemy, his fists clenched as Violator turned to look at him even as it continued to scratch desperately at its back to remove the blade now embedded there. "Try _this _on for size!"

Not even giving the demon time to find the knife, Angel launched himself forward, kicking Violator in the chest as he launched an almost simultaneously uppercut to the jaw. Vaulting backwards as Violator lashed out with a powerful swipe of his claws, Angel stuck his fingers out and rammed them into what would have been Violator's windpipe if he'd been human, grinning an Angelus-style grin as Violater once again staggered back, clutching weakly at his throat as he gasped desperately for air.

Like Angel had speculated when he first saw Violator's image in the files that Midnite had provided for the Coven, Violator's large size came at a disadvantage; his main strength in a fight lay in his enemies being far enough away from him that he could attack them without them being able to attack him. His long arms were useful tools at attacking an opponent from far away, but so long as Angel stayed in close and remained alert, their length made it difficult for Violator to effectively attack the vampire without risking hitting himself as well.

"Not so tough against somebody who knows what they're doing, are you... _Clown_?" Angel said, grinning slightly at the outraged expression on Violator's face as the gasping demon glared at him. "Ready to give up now?"

"_Never_!" Violator roared, grabbing the back of Angel's coat with one clawed hand and hurling the vampire through a nearby shop window, leaving Angel sprawled on the ground surrounded by various damaged mobile phones as his opponent roared in rage and tried to grab at the dagger still lodged in his back.

"OK then..." Angel mused to himself, wincing slightly as he got to his feet, "this strategy's going to need a _bit _more work before it's perfect..."

* * *

As he stood in front of It, Spawn was already going over possible combat strategies to try and put this thing down. From what he recalled of the information in the files the Coven had managed to acquire about the Gathering's abilities, Its ability to shapeshift gave it a pretty big arsenal of potential attacks to use in a fight, but it also assumed the physical weaknesses of whatever it had manifested as; the children who'd fought it back in the fifties had managed to weaken it with silver slugs- they'd been using a catapult at the time, so 'bullets' definitely weren't the appropriate term- while it had assumed the appearance of the Wolf Man.

Therefore, as powerful as it was, its abilities depended on it assuming something big, powerful, and scary enough to prevent its intended victim from gathering the nerve to fight back; all Spawn had to do was hit it hard enough whenever it turned into something, and he _might _just have a chance to pull this whacko stunt off…

It wasn't the sanest plan he'd ever come up with, of course, but it definitely wasn't the worst one either (Ever listening to Wynne in the first place back when he was actually alive rather than what was technically a reanimated corpse; now _that _had been a dumb plan…).

As he stared resolutely at It, his fists clenched in preparation for whatever the thing wanted to throw at him, Spawn wasn't surprised as It transformed into a large creature that looked like some demented amalgamation of Violator and his own costume, complete with the cloak and chains. He wouldn't say that he was actually _afraid _of the demon- even before his death he hadn't encountered much that he was actually afraid of, and ever since he'd learnt how to control his powers there really wasn't that much that actually scared him any more-, but the concept of Violator convincing the Malebolgia to give him access to powers like Spawn's- which, according to Cogliostro, had been one of Violator's main ambitions ever since Cogliostro had been a Spawn- was something that the man once known as Al Simmons really wasn't that keen on facing.

"Nice touch," he said grimly, as he raised his arms to activate his various assorted blades, focusing his mind on the fight at hand. "Care to show me how that get-up works out in action?"

Roaring in rage, It charged towards Spawn, activating its own arm-blades as it thrust one arm forward in an attempt to impale Spawn through the chest. Instinctively lengthening his own blades to block the attack, Spawn followed up the initial attack by lashing out with his chains, striking the Violator-shaped It on It's chin with one blow and following the attack up with a powerful slash that left the creature bleeding a black, blood-like substance from just below its neck for a few moments before the wound healed. Roaring in rage, the creature lashed out at Spawn with its claws once again, sending the former black ops assassin flying even as his chains and cloak instinctively grabbed the creature's head and hauled It along with him. As the two of them crashed into a now-empty newsagents', Spawn was already lashing out with another string of punches, kicks, blades, and chain-based assaults at It, refusing to allow the monster before him any opportunity to fight back.

He was being a bit more brutal than his usual style- even back when he'd been an assassin he'd preferred to kill his target quickly; here he was simply cutting and breaking whatever this thing had for bones to stop it being able to concentrate on anything other than the pain- but given that Its' practically immortal nature rendered It practically impossible to kill via conventional methods as far as they had been able to determine, he had no choice.

If he allowed his opponent even the _slightest _opportunity to fight back, he'd be in serious trouble; so far Angel's strategy of 'hit them so hard that that they can't come up with a good way to fight back' seemed to be the only thing that might give him even the _slightest _chance of walking out of this fight alive.

* * *

Glancing once more over at Jason as the two of them took up their combat positions in front of the Creeper, Constantine once again found himself impressed at the progress that the man beside him had made in the short time since he'd 'defected' away from the Gathering. The man still wouldn't win any prizes in a contest of wits, of course, but he was still coming along fairly well for a guy who'd spent the last few years of his life operating on a principal of 'kill everyone who isn't me'; Constantine could swear he saw Jason's eyes glancing around to look at the other members of the Coven, as though making sure they were safe, before he turned his attention back to the Creeper.

As he stared in revulsion at the creature that had actually taken Spawn's _head_- Constantine still wasn't sure what freaked him out more about that; the fact that the Creeper had taken the head, or the fact that Spawn had survived something like that?-, Constantine raised the Holy Shotgun, aimed at the Creeper's head, and fired off one powerful shot at the monstrous creature before him. Even as Constantine watched the Creeper was diving to the side, the shotgun blast missing its head by mere inches, only for the blast to subsequently strike it in the right wing and remove a sizable chunk of flesh.

As the creature screamed in pain and rage at the sudden injury to its wing, Jason took over the attack, taking three steps forward and slashing at the Creeper's chest with his machete, leaving a deep cut that actually exposed the creature's ribcage to Constantine's wide gaze. It didn't appear to do much damage, of course- given that this thing had kept moving after being decapitated, Constantine really hadn't expected it to be stopped by something like that-, but it distracted the Creeper long enough for Constantine to reload and fire another shotgun blast at the Creeper's left wing.

Admittedly, Constantine strongly doubted that the creature would be that badly injured by the attacks- given what he'd seen of the Creeper's healing abilities so far, it seemed safe to say that it wouldn't have much trouble regrowing flesh over a few holes in its wings-, but it would at least be enough to limit what it might be able to do in a fight; from what he'd read in the files, the Creeper's wings weren't just for flight, even if that was what they were generally used for, so taking away their potential use as weapons couldn't help but turn the fight a bit more to their advantage.

"Jason!" Constantine yelled over at his friend, jerking a thumb towards the nearest shop (A clothing store, to be precise). "Get him into that!"

Nodding in understanding, Jason turned to face the Creeper and charged into him, the sheer force of his momentum- coupled with the fact that, even with the wings taken into account, the former Crystal Lake Slasher was significantly bulkier than the Creeper- sending the two of them crashing into the previously indicated clothes shop. Just as Constantine had hoped, the Creeper crashed into a coat rack onto a short distance from the shop's entrance, its still-spread wings quickly becoming entangled with the coats. Before the Creeper could properly shrug the coats off and get back to its feet, Jason had positioned himself to stand grimly over the body, his machete swiftly plunging down and up as he hacked away at the Creeper's temporarily immobilised form.

Admittedly, Constantine _did _wish Jason didn't feel the need to do that last part- it didn't exactly give him confidence in his chances of helping Jason become a bit morethan the unstoppable homicidal maniac he'd been known as over the last several years back in his original dimension-, but, at the immediate moment, with the situation the way it was, he couldn't deny that it _was _an effective method of attack to use against the rapidly-healing Creeper.

_That's the problem with having to save people, I guess_, Constantine mused to himself as he checked the Holy Shotgun was fully loaded one last time before he jumped through the window to join Jason. _Sometimes, we have to make the hard decisions for the minority in order to make sure we save the majority_…

_And _God_, I hate it when we have to do that._

* * *

As soon as he'd selected Pinhead as his target, Hellboy didn't provide his opponent with any time to come up with a combat strategy of any kind; given the power that Cenobites could control, he didn't have the time to come up with something subtle if he wanted to take her out. Before the creature before him had time to realise who he was up against, Hellboy had lashed out with his stone fist at Pinhead's face, sending the demon-creature (Cenobites weren't exactly conventional demons by any stretch of the imagination, but the term worked well enough as far as Hellboy was concerned) flying backwards from the sheer force of the punch before he crashed into the ground a few feet away from where he'd started.

Before Pinhead could get back up, Hellboy had drawn his gun and unloaded a quick round of bullets into the Cenobite's chest; even if the shots didn't actually kill the creature before him, there was no way that even he could shrug them off that quickly. As the creature stared up at him, as though shocked that Hellboy had even been able to do that much damage to him, the red-skinned demon bent down and picked Pinhead up by the collar, grinning at the nightmarish monster in his grasp as he drew back the 'Right Hand of Doom' for another punch.

"Ready to feel the burn, sucker?" he said grimly, thrusting his fist towards Pinhead as soon as the last work had left his mouth, ready to land a devastating blow that would likely knock Pinhead's head right off his shoulders…

Only for several chains, serrated edges and all, to suddenly burst out of nowhere and charge towards Hellboy's arm, wrapping themselves around the stone and stopping the fist before it could make contact with the Cenobite still clutched in Hellboy's other hand.

For a moment, Hellboy simply stared in shock at the chains even as he continued to try and force his stone fist forward- he couldn't even _remember _the last time he'd encountered something that possessed enough force to stop him from landing a punch when he'd started an attack-, but then the chains tensed and threw him backwards, leaving him desperately scrambling for a grip on something before he suddenly found himself flying through the window of what he only realised after he had hit the ground was a shoe shop.

_Ouch_… Hellboy winced, staggering to his feet as he glared at where Pinhead was now standing outside the shop window, only sparing a brief glance at his arm to confirm that it wasn't damaged; he had no idea what would happen if his stone arm got broken, but he _was _certain that he didn't want to find out the hard way. Confirming that the only damage was a few small scratches that were no worse than the kind of wear and tear the arm normally received tackling the kind of stuff he dealt with on a daily basis, he drew his gun once again and aimed it directly at Pinhead's face.

"Nice move," he said grimly. "Want to try and pull it off again?"

Pinhead didn't answer verbally, instead simply raising one hand and launching a powerful blast of flame at Hellboy. Ducking to one side to evade the attack- fire normally didn't hurt him, but given how little he really knew about Pinhead he wasn't prepared to find out if the same rules applied for this guy's flames as applied for the more traditional ones he'd encountered previously-, Hellboy rolled over to hide behind a nearby display case, already going over what he could do to try and turn the tables on this bastard. At the moment, judging by what he'd seen of the guy's personality so far, Pinhead was likely to be more focused on getting revenge at Hellboy for actually managing to attack him like that rather than trying to spread out, particularly since Leo and Cole were still working on getting the civilians out of the mall before they could get hurt…

_Hold on a minute; _revenge_?_ Hellboy thought to himself, suddenly recalling something he'd read in Pinhead's file. _Not that I'm complaining, but this guy's meant to be interested in expanding his lot's knowledge of physical experiences; why the _hell _would he be focused on revenge_?

It was like Constantine had mentioned to them following his last fight with the Cenobite; Pinhead was acting a _lot _more ruthlessly than his normal M.O. suggested he would…

_What's going _on _with these guy_? Hellboy wondered, even as he went over his small arsenal of bullets in an attempt to find one that might allow him to turn the tide against this psychopath. _If it isn't the Gathering being almost random, it's this guy being too brutal; something else is _definitely _not right with this situation…_

Honestly, who would have thought that a team consisting of a bunch of whackjobs whose shtick was primarily killing everyone in their immediate vicinity every time somebody was dumb enough to wake them up/let them out/whatever term applied would make them think _this _much?

* * *

Even as he drew his sword to confront his opponent- he had never been as relieved as he was when the guy jumped off his horse; the last thing he needed was trying to stop a bugger with a height advantage on top of all his other 'perks'-, Blade knew that he'd definitely drawn the short straw in this fight. From what he'd read in the files on the Gathering during their brief periods of 'downtime' between their assaults, at least the other members of the group could be hurt to some extent, even if the likes of Pinhead and the Creeper weren't exactly _easy _to hurt…

But this bugger?

He'd walked away from everything from getting shot to being in a windmill just as it blew up (Not that fatal an incident compared to some of the stuff the Coven had encountered over the course of their lives, of course, but it still wasn't exactly something you'd normally get out of totally unharmed). What with him being already dead, it wasn't like there was much that would hurt this guy even if he'd been a more conventional walking corpse like Angel or a zombie, and the whole thing with him being able to move about without a head only made matters worse, as far as taking him out went.

As far as Blade could determine, the only way he was ever going to get out of this showdown was to figure out some way of taking this bastard apart and hope that his current ability to move without one crucial organ only worked so long as the rest of him was intact; if the Horseman's arms were able to keep moving without the rest of him, he was in _serious _trouble.

As the Horseman raised his sword in preparation for the first attack, Blade didn't hesitate; raising his own blade to counter the Horseman's own, the two swords met with a resounding clang at a point almost exactly between the two warriors, with Blade briefly staring directly at where the Horseman's eyes would have been if the bastard still had his head before the Horseman drew back his sword and thrust it towards the Daywalker once again.

If Blade had been human, he would have been dead instantly.

If he'd been a less experienced combatant, he would have been in pretty much the same position.

As it was, with his vampire-based physical abilities and his nearly twenty years of experience fighting the creatures that had ruined his life before he was even born, Blade not only managed to avoid the Horseman's attack, but follow up the move with a rapid punch to the Horseman's chest just below the ribs; whether your opponent was dead or not, Blade had learned long ago that a blow like that was always good for buying you even a few seconds in a fight like this. As the Horseman staggered back from the force of the punch- he might not need air, but a blow like that wasn't something you could just shrug off that easily-, Blade followed the first blow with an alternating set of punches and kicks, driving the Horseman further and further back until a final kick sent him flying through the display window of a nearby DVD shop.

_It's at times like this that I'm glad we don't need to worry about paying the bills_, Blade thought to himself as he leapt through the window after the Horseman, grabbing the Horseman's sword and hurling it off to one side before the powerful warrior could get back to his feet; he'd been lucky with the initial kicks, but he didn't want to keep up this fight with that sucker still armed.

Fighting this thing with a sword and his other weapons when all the Horseman had was his hands, however?

Still wouldn't be easy, of course- the damn Horseman was too tough to go down that fast, particularly with the whole 'technically dead' thing going for it-, but it would _definitely _be simpler to tackle him without having to worry about getting his head cut off.

As he and the Horseman began to trade punches- Blade was surprised at how many times he had to stop himself from instinctively trying to hit the bastard's head; you really never realised how much you'd come to rely on being able to attack that body-part until you were up against someone who didn't have it-, Blade could only hope that this sucker wasn't quite as tough as his file had implied he was…

* * *

As the leather-clad sword-wielding form of the guy that Hellboy had identified as Kroenon stood in front of him, his blades drawn and clearly ready for action, Spike wondered how the hell he and Blue had ended up getting _this _sucker to deal with; wasn't this guy meant to be _Hellboy's _problem?

He understood the reasoning behind the division of manpower, of course- Hellboy's strength was better suited for going after It rather than a relatively weaker Kroenon- but as he ducked around the man's swords, moving so rapidly that he was surprised the guy couldn't fly, logic wasn't really something the vampire once known as William the Bloody was that concerned about.

"Hey, Blue!" he yelled over at Illyria, as he ducked under another swipe from Kroenon's swords- for a man whose internal organs had apparently turned to sand years ago, this bastard could really _move_ when he wanted to-, "any chance you could use whatever's left of your god-like abilities to _take this bastard by surprise_?!"

"As I have informed you before, half-breed, I do _not _possess all of my old abilities!" Illyria yelled over at Spike as she deflected one of Kroenon's blades; fortunately she still retained enough of her old invulnerability for the blade not to actually hurt her, but it was still powerful enough to leave her with a significantly sore area under her suit. "If you wish me to move faster, you will be disappointed; what I am doing at the moment is all that I _can _do!"

"I'm not asking for _miracles_, all I'm asking for is if you've got something up your sleeve that'll make this bastard go down a bit faster!" Spike yelled, sparing the opportunity to take a brief glance at his surroundings; so far it looked like the other members of the Coven had managed to keep their opponents contained in some of the shops immediately around the area, but Kroenon was currently proving to be far too evasive for them to force him in one direction. Every time they tried to drive him towards a shop, he simply vaulted over them and started attacking again; if they'd been human, Spike had little doubt that this berk would have already taken them down.

_God, whatever happened to the days when the tough suckers were the ones who were strong as an ox and about as smart_? he asked himself, lashing out with a kick that only just managed to catch Kroenon on the side. _I mean, they might be stupidly difficult to put down, but at least you could _hit _them_!

Then he saw a bench located just a couple of feet behind where Kroenon was currently standing- one of those indoor things that some malls seemed to have for reasons he'd never been able to figure out; did they want people to have somewhere to sit to have snacks or what?-, and inspiration struck him.

If they couldn't hit Kroenon because he was too agile, what if they hit him with something that was too _big _for him to dodge?

Spike didn't hesitate; diving off to one side to avoid Kroenon's blades, he slid along the surprisingly smooth floor- it looked like the thing had been cleaned recently; that probably accounted for some of the slide factor-, leapt to his feet beside the bench, grabbed it, literally _tore _it away from the ground, and then turned around and hurled the bench at where Kroenon was currently attempting to slice and dice Illyria. The blue-skinned ex-goddess saw the attack coming in time to dive out of the way, but the former Nazi occult expert wasn't as fortunate; before his brain had even had the chance to fully process that his target wasn't there any more, the bench had crashed into his back, briefly forcing his body to bend sharply backwards from the sheer force of the blow before the bench hit the ground. Before Spike had even managed to move towards the now-fallen target, Illyria had grabbed one of Kroenon's swords from his hand and, glaring at the man's masked face, slashed down with a powerful blow that severed Kroenon's head from his neck.

Staring at the body before him, Spike wasn't sure whether to be disgusted or disturbed at the fact that sand came out of the wound rather than blood.

Then he glanced up and saw the rest of the Gathering staring in his and Illyria's direction, their own battles having been temporarily paused at the sight of one of their number being killed, and instantly re-evaluated his priorities; right now, he and Blue had more pressing matters to focus on.

* * *

After a moment's silence as the assorted psychotic 'colleagues' stared in shock at the sight of the vampire and the ex-goddess standing over their vanquished opponent, Violator broke the spell by sending Angel flying with a surprise punch to the chest before he leapt out into the centre of the collection of shops and glared over at the other Gathering members.

"Time to bail!" the large demon yelled over at the others, waving his hand slightly as he looked urgently at his associates in the Gathering. "Everyone _run_!"

None of the Gathering hesitated; before any of the Coven could react, their respective opponents lashed out with a powerful assault that knocked the entire Coven off their feet, the Creeper throwing Constantine and Jason off to the sides as it flew out of the all-but-destroyed clothes shop while the massive form of It, having thrown Spawn to the back of the newsagents, leapt out into the middle of mall as it temporarily assumed its seemingly default spider-like appearance, instantly lashing out with its long legs to send Spike and Illyria, as well as the approaching Leo and Cole, hurtling to the ground, the last of the civilians having been evacuated. Even as Angel, Hellboy and Spawn- the Coven member who'd received the least damage from his attack and the two most powerful members respectively- got back to their feet, It and the Horseman- once again on his horse- had already hurried through the portal that Violator had created, and Pinhead and the Creeper weren't far behind.

Angel wasn't going to accept that.

They may still be playing the Gathering's game if they followed them through that portal- with It, Pinhead and Violator all capable of teleportation, why would Violator open a portal unless he _wanted _the Coven to be able to follow?-, but, like they'd concluded back in their other-dimensional 'headquarters', they didn't have a choice.

If the Gathering's evil was ever going to end, they _had _to follow them through that portal; it was their best chance yet of gaining access to the Gathering's headquarters.

"Come _on_!" he roared back at the other members of the Coven as they staggered to their feet, all of them automatically looking in Angel's direction. "We have to go _now_!"

None of the Coven hesitated; whatever injuries they had taken, they still had a duty to the innocents they had long promised to protect to do what they had to in order to keep them safe. Gathering behind Angel, the Coven dived en masse through the portal before…


	18. Breaking Out

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the members of the Coven, nor do I own the Coven's allies, or the various members of the Gathering

Feedback: I'd appreciate that, trust me

The Gathering of Supernatural Psychopaths

Angel wasn't even aware of the transition from consciousness to unconsciousness; all that he knew was that, before he went through the portal, he was standing up with a long dagger clutched in his hand in preparation for the upcoming confrontation, and having apparently arrived at the other side he found himself sprawled on the ground with his dagger and his other weapons nowhere to be found on his person.

"What the…?" he groaned, staggering to his feet as he looked around to take in his surroundings. In general, it wasn't much to look at- just a simple stone room with a few small windows on some of the walls, a bed, a chair, and a very secure-looking door- but Angel's vampire-enhanced senses allowed him to swiftly confirm two things about this room; it was nowhere on Earth, and it was not somewhere that he was meant to be getting out of that easily.

"_Ah, you're awake_!" a voice said from… well, Angel could only assume that it came from outside his new cell; it seemed to come from all around him, but he was prepared to bet that the effect was simply caused by some spell designed primarily to intimidate him.

"Ugh…. Violator?" Angel muttered, groaning as he leaned against a nearby wall to give his head a chance to straighten itself out. "What did you _do _to us…?"

"_Angel_?" Spawn's voice said from the other side of the wall that Angel was currently leaning against. "_That you_?"

"Spawn?" Angel said, looking at the wall before him in surprise; why would someone put them in cells where the walls were thin enough to allow them to _speak _to each other? "What happened?"

"_Best guess; that 'rift' thing we went through knocked us out when we got through the damn thing_," Spawn grunted. "_Perfect kinda strategy, really; we get in, but we don't know there's a problem until we actually get _out _the other side_."

"_Bingo_!" Clown chuckled, chuckling as he spoke. "_And don't think you can get out of them that easily, you goddamn idiots; your cells have all been specifically designed to keep each one of you locked up until we're _ready _for you_…"

"Ready for us?" Angel repeated, addressing the door before him for his own sake rather than anything else; the last thing he wanted was to start talking to the walls and ceiling like a madman, even if he was actually getting a response. "What does _that _mean?"

"_Oh, y'know, brutally torture a few of you, see what it takes to get you back onto our side rather than on the side of the so-called 'good guys', have those of you who do the smart thing kill the more stubborn members, that kinda thing_," Violator said, sounding almost frustratingly casual despite the long-term consequences of such a statement. "_Just the fun stuff, really; you knew how it was back when you thought like us_."

"And you really think we'll just… _sit _here and let you do this to us?" Angel said, glaring at the door.

"_Not like you have a choice here, Angelface; did you miss the part where those cells have been designed _specifically _to keep you all contained_?" Violator chuckled, a slight rapping on the door suggesting that he was knocking on it as though to demonstrate how thick it was. "_But don't worry; you'll not have to be in there for long. Just give us a few hours to get everything sorted out here- little bit of mayhem back down there, maybe throw things into chaos in a few of your old territories- and then we'll be back up here and have you back to ripping people's spleens out and making them eat them in a matter of hours_."

Declining to comment on Clown's last threat, Angel simply waited until he heard the sound of a door being shut somewhere outside his cell before he turned to look impatiently at the wall opposite where Spawn's voice had come.

"Who's there?" he called, knocking as hard as he could against the stone wall facing him; if he was going to try and break out of here, his most immediate concern was to identify who was imprisoned immediately around him.

"_Ugh… Angel_?" Constantine's voice said from the other end, the exorcist sounding like he'd just woken up after a particularly long night out (Between their decision to remain a team and Spawn's arrival in their lives the group had spent a few days getting to know each other socially, during which they'd consumed a not inconsiderable amount of alcohol; Constantine, as the only 'pure' human in the team- his psychic powers didn't make him physically different from other humans, after all-, had naturally proven the most vulnerable to its effects afterwards). "_What _happened…?"

"Short version; the Gathering's portal knocked us out when we went through it and they stuck us in these cells, all of which have been apparently specifically designed to keep us contained," Angel replied. "Do you have anything on you?"

"_Weapons, you mean_?" Constantine replied, a slight tone of amusement in his voice. "_Angel, these guys are psychotic, but they're not stupid; you _really _think they wouldn't search and disarm me the second I got here_?"

"No harm in checking," Angel replied simply- so much for any hope that the remaining members of the Gathering might _just _be dumb enough to make the little mistakes like that-, before he turned to walk towards the last wall. It might just be facing the outside world- assuming there _was _an 'outside; these cells could be a miniature pocket dimension much like the Coven's own headquarters was- rather than another cell, but there was no harm in making sure, as far as he was concerned. Knocking once against the wall before him, he waited a few moments before he heard someone speaking at the other end.

"_Yes_?" Illyria replied, her tone as ever betraying the confident attitude that had remained from her previous godhood long after everything else about that time of her existence had ended. "_Who is there_?"

"Angel," the vampire replied simply. "We've been captured by the Gathering; see if you can find out who's in the cells around you, but don't try anything."

"_Simple questioning_?" Illyria said in surprise. "_Why do I not simply break out of this cell_-?"

"The Gathering said that they've made these things specifically to hold us; I somehow doubt they've made it that easy, and I'm not going to have anyone trying something that might leave them injured until we have a better idea what we're dealing with," Angel cut in. "Nice idea, but seriously, if it was that simple for us to get out, don't you think somebody would have done it already?"

"…_A valid point_," Illyria replied briefly, her tone sounding as close to sheepish as Illyria would ever allow herself to sound; even without being a 'God-King' in anything other than title any more, it would probably be a cold day in Hell- the parts of it that Angel had seen, anyway; he'd heard that there were some other parts that were a bit colder than the traditional image- before she lost that old arrogance of hers. As he heard the blue-skinned goddess's footsteps as she walked off to another part of her cell, Angel took one last look at his surroundings before he turned to study the door before him, clenching his fists in preparation for what he was about to attempt.

As he'd told Illyria, he wasn't going to have anybody try something that might leave them dead or injured until they had a better idea what they were dealing with.

Unfortunately, right now, the only way for him to find out what he was dealing with was to try something that might do just that.

_Still_, Angel mused, quickly deciding on his plan of attack as he studied the wall before him, _that's why they made me the leader; so that I could make the hard decisions like this one_.

Drawing his fist back, he launched a powerful punch directly towards the centre of the door, only to be met with a sharp pain in his knuckles and no sign of any give on the door; evidently it was sturdier than it looked.

_Right then_, Angel mused, nodding thoughtfully, moving to stand against the wall opposite the door as he flexed his shoulders in preparation for another attempt, _if punches won't work out, let's try… _this_!_

Charging towards the door once more, Angel thrust one leg forward in a slightly more desperate attempt at a kick, only for him to be violently thrown backwards as soon as he made contact, feeling momentarily like his leg had been forcibly plunged into a vat of holy water as he lay against the opposite wall, wincing in pain.

_OK…_ he mused to himself, as he carefully got to his feet, _looks like they _weren't _exaggerating about the security_.

He had to admit, it wasn't actually that bad a defence system; the construction of the walls and door blocked off any lesser attacks on their own, while any stronger attacks that might have actually done damage were blocked by the magic that had apparently been erected around the cell. Repeated low-strength pounding against the door might manage to make a dent in it, but that would take too long and Angel strongly doubted that the spell would allow him to keep that kind of activity up for long anyway.

Sighing grimly as he reflected on this latest turn of events- getting captured while attempting to break into the enemy's base was far from being the way he'd wanted to go-, Angel lay down on the bed that served as his cell's only furniture, staring reflectively up at the ceiling as he tried to come up with an alternative plan to get out of this cell now that the obvious methods were clearly impractical.

No sooner had he settled into position to think, however, than he was suddenly distracted by a loud thumping sound against the wall that his bed was positioned alongside, accompanied by the faint sound of grunts from the other side of the wall.

"What the…?" Angel muttered, getting to his feet and staring in confusion at the wall in front of him. "Spawn? Is that you?"

"_Who… else_?" Spawn replied in between thuds.

"Uh… care to explain why?" the vampire asked, looking uncertainly at the wall as it continued to shake under the assault of the Coven's newest teammate.

"_Just… occurred… to me_," the former black ops assassin said, his sentences still broken up by grunts as he continued to apparently pound away at the wall before him, "_that… while… the _doors_…seem… impregnable… walls… might be… _less… _hard… to get… through…_"

Angel could have kicked himself for not realising that before Spawn pointed it out.

When you thought about it, it was almost obvious, really; why would the Gathering have bothered to make the _interior _walls of the cells as solid as the _outer _walls? After all, there would be no practical benefit in the Coven trying to break into each _other's _cells, so-

Angel cut off that train of thought mid-sentence; as Spawn's current actions had reminded him, there _was _an obvious practical benefit, and it would hardly take a genius to realise it.

If one of the Coven's stronger members managed to break into the cell of one of the weaker ones- such as, in this instance, Spawn breaking into his cell; he might have experience, but the would-be general of Hell's army against Heaven certainly had greater raw power- it would only be too easy for him to break out of the new cell; there was no way the Gathering could have failed to take steps to prevent something like that from happening.

"Spawn…" he began, looking uncertainly at the wall where the Coven's newest member was still punching away at the other side; even if he knew the man was definitely on his side, the idea of telling a man who had once been selected to lead Hell's armies that he was wrong about something wasn't exactly an experience he was looking forward to. "Uh… I don't think that's going to work; I don't think even the _Gathering _are crazy enough to let you break into another cell-"

"_Only… said… walls… were… probably… _less_… impregnable; I'm… not… actually… trying… to _break_… through… myself_," Spawn grunted, his assault continuing as he spoke; even as Angel watched, the wall before him actually appeared to shudder under the force of Spawn's blows. "_If… I can… just… make… _one_… small… crack…_"

Before Spawn could elaborate on what he meant by that last comment, a particularly powerful thud resulted in the small crack that Spawn had just mentioned he was attempting to create. As Angel watched the sight before him, a thin black blade that looked like what he'd seen of Spawn's costume when it was in action extended through the crack, the end subsequently widening to form a thin hammer-like shape before finally settling in its current shape.

"What the…?" Angel asked, staring in confusion at the wall before him. "What are you trying to do, Spawn?"

"_What else_?" the man who had been known as Al Simmons in life replied, sounding like he was almost smiling slightly as he spoke to his team's leader through the wall, the occasional pant for breath the only indication that he was tired from his last few moments of activity. "_I need you… to bite that part… of my armour… and drink from it_."

Angel blinked.

"You want me to _drink _from your _armour_?" he repeated, looking incredulously at the small hammer-like implement that was all that he could see of Spawn. "Are you even sure that wouldn't _kill _me; demon blood doesn't exactly taste good to me even when it's _normal _demon blood, you know!"

"_Damn thing wants to get out of here as much as I do; trust me, if it says you can drink from it, you can do it_," Spawn replied. "_As far as I can tell from it- thing may be alive but it still isn't exactly the chattiest piece of crap in existence-, it's thinking that, if you drink some of its… whatever- I don't really get _what _it has instead of blood, but it seems to be telling me you can cope with it- you'll be able to use some of my abilities and bust us out of here, kinda like what you mentioned you did when you guys needed to get out of a cell using a spell on your first… would you call it a mission_?"

"Well… for lack of anything better, yeah, 'mission' works…" Angel admitted, nodding thoughtfully to himself as he studied the claw before him.

He might not exactly like the idea of drinking from Spawn's suit- even normal demon blood left him feeling somewhat ill if he drank it; how much worse would it be drinking from such an unusual life-form as Spawn's armour?-, but he knew that he didn't have a choice; if he and the rest of the Coven didn't get out of these cells now, then the Gathering were just going to continue doing… whatever they were up to (He refused to believe that it was just random murder; there _was _some underlying motive behind bringing these guys together, and they _had_ to figure it out).

Besides, as Spawn had said, the idea was certainly similar to how they'd managed to escape those cells on their first mission; since the Halliwells had been unable to use their magic themselves, he, Spike and Blade had 'borrowed' their abilities for a brief period to overcome that particular disadvantage. Theoretically, it was possible at least that he'd be able to use Spawn's powers to break out of _this _cell like he had that one, but the situation was drastically different. The Halliwells' blood, for all that it was magical, was still fundamentally human; he wasn't even sure _what _to call whatever kind of fluid might be required by Spawn's armour for it to keep existing…

But, as Spawn had pointed out, it was their only chance; his cell might have been developed to prevent a vampire of his age and strength from breaking out, but it definitely couldn't handle an attack by someone who possessed even _some _of Spawn's abilities. If he could just channel all of the power he might acquire from Spawn towards the door in one quick burst, that _might _just be enough to get through the cell door and allow him to work on breaking out some of the others; maybe if he could get Cole out his energy balls could help him shatter a few locks…

It wasn't the safest plan he'd ever tried, of course, but that was the price of being in the Coven; to do the most good, they have to take risks with their own lives sometimes.

_After all_, Angel mused to himself, as he looked silently at the protruding piece of armour before him, _if redemption was an easy thing to achieve, we'd _all _be doing it._

Taking a deep breath, he leaned forward and dug his teeth into the small piece of Spawn's armour before him, resisting the temptation to back away as soon as he felt the foul taste of Spawn's necrotic energy going down his throat; it wasn't actually going to damage his system, but it definitely didn't taste nice. As soon as he was sure he'd absorbed enough of the necroplasm to grant him at least some of Spawn's powers for the task at hand, he released his grip- resisting the urge to spit the foul stuff out while some of it was still in his mouth; he needed all the power he could get right now-, turned to face the door before him, and raised his clenched fists to point at the door before him.

"Here goes nothing…" he said, swallowing tensely as he concentrated his newly-acquired power into his fists, allowing the green glow that signified Spawn's use of his energy powers to build around them before launching it at the door. As soon as the energy beams struck the door, the wooden surface before him instantly flew apart from the force of the assault, leaving him standing in front of a sudden large open space where the door had once been.

Refusing to allow himself even a moment to pause- if he remained in one place for too long there was always the chance that one of the Gathering could come along to taunt the prisoners and find out that he wasn't there-, Angel hurried out the cell and quickly took in his surroundings; a simple large stone corridor with five doors against one wall, along with a corner at one end that suggested it would lead to the other four cells; he doubted the Gathering would have bothered to spread the Coven out that much, given the supposedly 'inescapable' cells they'd been placed in. Knowing that Constantine and Spawn were in the cells on either side of him, there was no point in trying to break either of them out- he had no means of getting Spawn out at the moment and Constantine, in all fairness, couldn't contribute anything to his efforts to free the others without his weapons-, Angel turned his attention to the door furthest on the left- just past Constantine's cell- and knocked quickly on it.

"_Yeah_?" Cole's voice replied, the Goldlighter's voice reflecting his evident frustration at his current imprisonment. "_Who's there_?"

Angel smiled gratefully; of everyone he could have found, Cole was _just _who he needed to get this break-out started.

"It's Angel," he replied, stepping back from the door to charge up his borrowed Hellspawn powers once again. "Step back; this door's about to be blown away…"

* * *

As the champion formerly known as Angelus fired another burst of his ever-depleting temporary supply of necroplasmic energy at the door containing the Goldighter formerly known as Belthazor, neither of them knew that they were currently being watched by the figure whose actions had caused them so much trouble without he himself ever confronting them directly.

He had to admit, in some ways he couldn't help but be impressed by the Coven's ingenuity; even if he'd hoped that they'd stay locked up for longer than they had been, it was always good to know that the powers they possessed were being used to their full extent.

Even if he disagreed with how their owners were using them, they hadn't come this far by being easy to trap; it was the whole reason he'd gone to such lengths to keep _them _occupied while leaving such groups as the Slayers and the Charmed Ones alone (Although depriving the Charmed Ones of their Whitelighter was a nice little bonus; Leo Wyatt might have taken 'double duty' to continue his work with the Coven but that still meant that, unless the Charmed Ones had a _serious _need for his help- a fact that was unlikely given the youngest sister's increased control of her healing powers-he wasn't staying in regular contact with them).

Still… for the moment, even if the Coven had been a bit faster than he'd expected, everything was going according to plan. All he needed to do now was ensure that they remained occupied until his agent had finished his 'work' on the Coven's warning system, allow them to eliminate the Gathering and save him the bother of dealing with them himself- the Gathering's members were powerful but they were also fundamentally unpredictable; it was why he'd chosen them for this task rather than to participate in his main assault-, and then he would allow them a few hours' 'rest'…

After which, of course, any action they attempted to take against him would not only be pointless, it would be pathetic…

* * *

AN: Not the best chapter, I know, but it's mostly just filler; next chapter, the Coven begin their plans to take down the Gathering once and for all, striking at them from within the belly of the beast itself in a last-ditch attempt to at least partly redeem the irredeemable and divide the Gathering against itself…

Plus, of course, there's still the Gathering's behind-the-scenes 'supervisor' to take into account


	19. Weapons and Plans

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the members of the Coven, nor do I own the Coven's allies, or the various members of the Gathering

Feedback: I'd appreciate that, trust me

The Gathering of Supernatural Psychopaths

"Right then", Hellboy said, his expression grim as he looked around at the now-freed members of the Coven, flexing his shoulders in preparation for the upcoming fight, "if anyone's asking for my call, I'd say our first priority's simple; where the _hell _did those guys stick our weapons?"

"Doubt they took 'em too far away from here; if they thought we wouldn't get out, why bother hiding 'em a long way away?" Blade pointed out, glancing over at Angel. "Your opinion, boss?"

Angel nodded in agreement at the Daywalker's statement.

"As you said, the Gathering wouldn't want to waste time hiding the weapons far away from cells they were probably convinced we couldn't get out of; their styles of murder have made it clear that they're very… straightforward when they do something," he confirmed, nodding briefly at the Daywalker before he turned to look at the others. "OK, our first priority is finding our weapons, but with the Gathering down to their most powerful members we can't afford to neglect any possible advantage; we need to come up with plans for dealing with the problem _fast_. We're up against at least four creatures who can't be killed by _any _normal methods, and we're stuck in unfamiliar territory that they probably know far better than we do; so far sticking to our 'hit them until they go down' strategy is all I can think of, but if anyone has any alternative suggestions I'd be willing to hear them."

"Personally, I say we find where these guys are keeping the Horseman's head," Cole put in, raising his hand as he looked over at Angel. "Whoever holds the skull controls the Horseman; if we can get the skull away from whichever of them has it- right now my money's on Violator, if anyone wants a suggestion; Pinhead and It are too unpredictable for the others to trust them with control of the Horseman and the Creeper doesn't seem to be much more than a smart animal-, we might be able to use him against the rest of the Gathering-"

"The files said that he takes whoever controlled him back to Hell after his skull's been restored to him; we'd be better just giving him back the skull and taking him out of the game for good," Constantine interjected, looking pointedly at the Goldlighter as he spoke. "I get that you've already been to at least _a _hell already and escaped, Cole, but personally speaking I'd rather not risk it myself; I spent two minutes in Hell once and that was _more _than enough as far as I'm concerned."

"Trust me, it doesn't get _any _easier if you're there longer…" Angel put in, shaking his head grimly at the memory of his time in Hell after Buffy had been forced to kill him to stop Alcathla- even what little he could remember of that time, after he'd repressed so much of that traumatic period of his life, was still enough to give him nightmares now and again- before he turned his mind back to the matter at hand. "OK, so we need to see about returning the Horseman's skull to him; any other ideas?"

"Well, I got _one_ idea," Hellboy put in, looking over at the vampire with an expression that could almost have been called sheepish if it wasn't for the sheer size of the speaker. "It's more of a theory thing than anything more definite…"

"When we're up against guys like this, theories are better than anything else we've got right now," Angel pointed out with a grim smile; the Coven all knew that they were in an increasingly dangerous situation, so there was no sense in even attempting to lighten the mood right now as far as the vampire once known as Angelus could see. "What is it?"

"Well… when I was fighting that 'Pinhead' git, I noticed that he was a lot… angrier at me than what you'd expect from the guy based on what we read in his profile," Hellboy explained, clearly uncertain a bout what he was saying even as he continued to speak regardless. "I mean, we all looked over the files Midnite gave us after this guy showed up; Pinhead's normally meant to be bound by certain laws, such as not being able to hurt the innocent and generally being focused exclusively on causing a mix of pleasure and pain to his opponents to test their physical responses-"

"A _mix_?" Spike interjected, looking pointedly at Hellboy as he rubbed at his arms where the Cenobite's chains had so recently dug into his skin. "I tackled that guy that time we had an all-out brawl in that apartment, Helly; he's definitely only interested in _hurting _people right now! He's-"

"-in the kind of mood that he's only been seen in when he was _separated_ from his human identity of Captain Elliot Spencer," Hellboy said, interrupting the vampire with a pointed glare. "We all read the files on the guy, Spike; Pinhead's meant to be interested in exploring the pleasures and pains of humanity, but the guy we're dealing with right now is only interested in hurting the other guy; experimenting with different kinds of sensations doesn't come into it."

"So… what?" Angel asked, a curious expression on his face as he looked at the large red-skinned demon. "You think we can… use that against the Gathering somehow?"

"If we can find Spencer, yeah," Hellboy confirmed, nodding at his ally. "The Gathering wouldn't have _killed _the guy- there's no way to know what losing contact with him totally would actually do to Pinhead; even when his soul was released from the curse of the Lament Configuration he was still linked to Pinhead's manifestations-, but there's no way of knowing where they'd have stuck him-"

"It's somewhere here," Constantine said resolutely, indicating Angel as he spoke. "It's like Angel said; the Gathering are too direct to bother with, for example, taking any prisoners they might have somewhere else when they've got a ready-made prison here; if they've got Captain Spencer anywhere, he's somewhere in this set-up."

"Perfect," Hellboy said, nodding his thanks at Constantine before he turned back to Angel. "If we can convince Spencer to merge back with Pinhead, we might be able to make a bargain with the guy; he lets us go in exchange for taking It and the Creeper with him- Cenobites might enjoy the chance to 'get to grips' with something like those two suckers, what with them being immortal and all-, something like that…"

He shrugged uncertainly. "It's not a brilliant plan, I know, but I've told you before; I'm the 'hit-it-'till-it-dies' kinda guy of my group, not the planner."

"It's better than nothing; we'll go with it," Angel said, nodding gratefully at the demon as he turned to the Coven. "OK, that's two possible plans of action; does anyone have anything else they can think of that we could use?"

Spike raised his hand.

"More of a question, really, but as long as we're on the topic of trashing this place, anyone any ideas what this whole set-up actually _is_ for when we want to get out of it?" he asked, looking curiously around at his allies. "I mean, apart being from the Gathering's base, obviously-"

"That is all it is," Illyria said simply.

"Huh?" Blade asked, looking inquiringly over at the blue-skinned ex-god before a possible explanation for her cryptic statement struck him. "Hold on; when you say that's _all _it is, you mean…?"

"It is like the headquarters provided to us by the foul angel when we first came together; it exists outside of the world that we battle in," Illyria confirmed, nodding briefly at the Daywalker before she continued. "My ability to traverse dimensions may have been taken from me when I was drained of my power, but I still possess the power to sense my dimensional surroundings; unlike our own 'pocket', this place has a finite limit on its size, and cannot expand beyond it, even if it remains a not insignificant size."

"OK, so, no matter how big it is, we only have a certain amount of places to search; that's something in our favour, at least…" Angel said, nodding thoughtfully before he looked back at his allies. "Right then, first order of business is to find our weapons; we're in hostile territory right now, and we are _not _splitting up until we're sure we can defend ourselves. Once we're armed, everyone will split into three groups, each team retaining at least one 'powerhouse' in the event of running into any of the Gathering before you're ready for them. Clear?"

"I'm all for that," Spawn confirmed, the rest of the Coven either nodding or giving Angel a thumbs-up to confirm their agreement with his decision.

"Right," Angel said, as he turned to look pointedly at his team. "We've probably only got a limited amount of time before the Gathering realise we're out; we have to move fast if we're going to get our weapons back before they can attack us. Until we're armed, we should stick together; Spawn, you take the lead while Hellboy brings up the rear, and everyone else just stay close and keep an eye out for any attacks."

"Gotcha," Cole said, raising one hand to generate a quick energy ball before he terminated it again, a brief smile on his face. "And, worst-case scenario, I've still got my own long-range 'weapons'; should buy us a bit more time if things get ugly."

After Angel had nodded briefly at his friend in acknowledgement of his comment, the Coven turned and entered the nearest main corridor they had discovered; as they had learned while freeing their allies, the Coven's cells were located in a Y-shaped area, with five cells on one side and four on the other, with a smaller corridor at the end of the Y leading into what appeared to be the main part of the building that they were increasingly certain was the Gathering's headquarters.

The rest of the facility, once they saw it, did little to improve their initial impression of the place. Like the cells and the corridors connecting them, it was a simple stone corridor, lacking any trace of decoration such as tapestries or carpets, with the only thing breaking the monotony of the stonework being the occasional door laid out along the corridor. There weren't even any windows to provide an alternative to the featureless stonework- of course, when Illyria's comment about their current location being a dimensional 'pocket' much like the Coven's own headquarters was taken into account, it was unlikely that there would be much of a view even there _had _been a window-, with the only thing that appeared remotely encouraging about the current situation being the fact that the lack of doors would limit the possible locations they'd need to investigate to find their weapons.

"OK," Angel said, nodding briefly after studying the sight before him before he turned back to look at the team. "Quick question; who among us has the best hearing?"

After the various Coven members had exchanged uncertain glances between themselves, Illyria stepped forward.

"My presence has heightened the initial five senses of this shell to well beyond the peak of what it would have been capable of without my presence; I believe that my hearing surpasses most of what the rest of this team are capable of," she said, looking curiously at Angel.

"Right," Angel said, nodding briefly at her as he indicated the doors around them. "In that case, I need you to listen at these doors and identify which ones have nobody behind them; I'm betting that the Gathering are just arrogant enough to leave our weapons unguarded, particularly since there's so few of them left right now anyway."

"A logical assumption; I will do what I can," Illyria replied, nodding briefly at Angel before she pressed her ear up against the nearest door, followed by her stepping back to punch right through the lock before her, allowing the door to swing open.

Noting the critical expression on Angel's face, Illyria shrugged.

"There was nobody behind it," she said simply. "It was perfectly safe-"

"We don't know if the Gathering have some kind of alarm system set up here; for all we know you could have just put us on a time limit until somebody comes to investigate that," Angel groaned, staring critically at the form of the woman who had once been Winifred Burkle. "We've got enough problems as it is without _that _being added to the equation; can you just try and _wait _for a few seconds rather than just ploughing through everything like that?"

After staring grimly back at him for a few moments, Illyria simply nodded in resignation.

"Very well," she said simply, before her eyes narrowed as she glared at Angel. "But be warned, vampire; I may not possess my former power, but talking down to me is still _not _wise…"

"Never thought it was," Angel countered, his arms folded as he looked at the blue-haired woman. "_You _just need to remember that you're not operating at your old power level any more; you can't expect to go up against everything we encounter and walk away from it just because you were able to do it _once_."

"I am _aware _of that-" Illyria began.

"Sorry to interrupt, but that dump just looks like Pinhead's been using it for practise; can we move _on _now?" Spike cut in, looking in frustration between his two friends as he indicated the open door behind them. A quick glance into the room in question was all that Angel needed to confirm his grandchilde's statement (A part of him almost automatically wished that he hadn't even done that; it looked like Pinhead had dragged a couple of people up here from Earth to 'practise' on, and what little could be seen of his victims in the dim light of the room before them was enough to make even Angelus feel a bit uneasy).

"Uh… right," Angel said, turning back to look at the rest of the Coven as he indicated the halls before him. "Come on, let's go; we could be running out of time and we're still unarmed."

The subsequent rapid investigation of the rooms proceeded a bit more smoothly; to limit the alarms that might be set off, all the other doors along that corridor- evidently the Gathering had seen little point in stationing guards in that area- had their locks melted off by Cole using a small concentrated energy ball, with Leo subsequently 'healing' the damage after they'd managed to open the door. The first two rooms they subsequently checked simply appeared to be further 'private chambers' for Pinhead to 'practise' in- both of them were currently empty, thankfully; too many bodies would only result in the Coven getting angrier at Pinhead than at the other members of the Gathering due to the 'evidence' of his actions, and the odds against them were slim enough without making it personal-, but the third room finally provided the Coven with what they were looking for; a metal table with the Coven's various weapons spread out across it, as though whichever of the Gathering's remaining members had left them there couldn't be bothered doing anything more to them.

"Well," Hellboy muttered, casually picking up his gun as he looked around at his assorted allies, "_that _was easy."

"Almost _too _easy…" Blade muttered, looking over at Angel. "Tell me I'm _not _the only one who thinks this is just as much of a set-up as everything else we've been dealing with since these bastards dropped into our lives?"

"You're not," Angel confirmed, his own expression grim as he clasped his sword in one hand while looking over at the Daywalker who had become such a trusted ally in such a short space of time. "I could believe that the Gathering weren't expecting us to break out like that- after all, they're ruthless, but Violator's probably the closest thing to an intelligent thinker the remaining ones have left and he's still far from being the sharpest tool in the box-, but sticking our weapons _this _close to our cell?"

"It's almost like they _want _us to be able to take them on…" Leo said, looking apprehensively around at his teammates as he uncertainly held his own sword in his hand (He might not like having to wield weapons, but he'd had a few lessons with Blade and at least had the basics down well enough even if the fine details could be tricky if he had to go up against an experienced opponent). "But _why_?"

"I don't _know_…" Angel groaned, briefly clasping his forehead in his left hand before he looked grimly up at his allies, resolution clear on his face as he looked at them. "What I _do _know is that there's only one way we're going to find _any _sort of answers."

"We seek them from the Gathering?" Illyria put in, a slight smile on her face in anticipation of the opportunity to 'do more violence' (Angel and Spike both sometimes wished she'd be a bit more sociable in a non-combat situation; of all the Coven's members, Illyria was actually the one who'd made the least attempts to bond with the others since the group had first come together).

"Precisely," Angel said, nodding grimly at the former God-King before he turned to address the team as a whole. "Cole, you're with Hellboy and Spike; see if you can find the Horseman's skull and return it to him as soon as possible, but do _not _attempt to use it to turn him against the others- from what the files say he'll take anyone who tries to command him down to Hell with him when his skull's returned to him, and I'm not going to risk losing anyone here if I can help it. John, take Jason, Leo and Illyria and see what you can do about finding Captain Spencer; if he can merge with Pinhead, we might be able to make a deal with him to stop this. Blade, Spawn, you're with me; we're-"

"Causing a mess to distract the Gathering's powerhouses from the rest of the teams?" Blade asked, a slight smile on the hybrid's face as he looked at the vampire. "Sounds like fun to me."

"I agree," Illyria added, the rest of the Coven nodded in agreement as well.

"Good," Angel said, nodding grimly as he raised his sword, giving it an experimental swing as he glanced back out at the door they had just entered by. "Everyone grab your weapons; Illyria can keep checking the doors as we go along, but if we run into any members of the Gathering or find where they're keeping Captain Spencer and the skull, we split up and each team does what they can to fulfil their assigned roles."

"Gotcha," Spike said, smiling in approval at his grandsire before he looked inquiringly at him. "Just one thing; given those plans you mentioned about how to deal with the Horseman and Pinhead…?"

"Correct; you're not to take them out of the equation until we've had a chance to at least _try _our current strategy," Angel confirmed, nodding pointedly at Spike. "If the plans work, we might take out pretty much all of the Gathering's remaining members in one moment; if they don't…"

"We'd be pretty much no worse off than we would have been if we'd never tried 'em," Hellboy said, shrugging dismissively as he checked the ammunition in his weaponbefore turning back to look at Angel. "Let's just get moving and get out of here; I'd like to get back to somewhere a bit less… bleak."

"I don't blame you for _that_…" Constantine muttered, looking grimly around himself as the Coven walked out of the weapons room, the exorcist staying as close to Hellboy as he could while keeping the Holy Shotgun ready for action; with him being the weakest member of the group in the event of an attack- even Leo could teleport and gain an at least momentary surprise advantage if the need arose-, it only made sense for him to stay close to the team's strongest member for protection. "These guys _really _don't go in for decorating much…"

"We should probably be glad about that; given what we've seen of Pinhead's usual apparent tastes in interior décor alone, I _definitely _don't want to find out what the rest of the Gathering would consider appropriate 'decoration'," Leo put in, looking over at the exorcist. "Just stay on the move and keep an eye out for any sign of trouble-"

"_Like THIS_?" a voice suddenly yelled from behind them. Spinning around, the Coven's eyes instantly fell on the massive, spider-like form of It in whatever passed for Its natural state this side of the dimensional barrier. The Coven members also noted that the creature seemed to be glowing slightly in a manner that it hadn't been before, but those capable of wondering about that- Jason being excluded from that group for obvious reasons- swiftly pushed it aside. Given that they weren't quite on Earth any more, it wasn't exactly impossible to assume that Its appaearance was now reflecting its natural appearance more strongly than it would have done if it had been on Earth.

"That'll do," Angel admitted, glancing over at Spawn and Blade before he turned back to look at the others. "Stick to the plan; we'll take care of this guy while you get out of here."

"And regarding the door-breaking thing?" Cole asked.

"If this sucker's here, they already know we're out," Blade said simply, before he turned back to glare at It as he tightened his grip on his sword. "Feel free to make a mess."

"Perfect," Hellboy said, clenching his fists before he raised his gun and turned to look down the corridor behind them. "We'll go this way; see you guys later."

Even as their allies ran off, however, Angel, Blade and Spawn couldn't help but think that their red-skinned colleague's statement might have been a bit too optimistic.

Even with their current plan of attack, the odds were still significantly in the Gathering's favour; none of them had acquired their significant body-count by being _easy _to put down…

_Still_, Angel mused to himself, smiling slightly over at Blade and Spawn as Blade raised his sword and Spawn activated his multiple arm-blades, _that's why we keep the Coven together; to take out the bad guys that we couldn't hope to take out alone_.

All they could do was try their best and hope that it would be enough (As well as hope that, whatever the Gathering's ultimate 'ulterior motive' was- assuming that _they_ weren't being manipulated just as much as the Coven, of course).

_One way or another_, Angel vowed, tightening his grip on his sword as he stared at the monster before him, pushing the thoughts of the Gathering's possible hidden objective out of his mind for a more convenient occasion, _this is the big finale_…


	20. The Keys to Victory

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the members of the Coven, nor do I own the Coven's allies, or the various members of the Gathering

Feedback: I'd appreciate that, trust me

The Gathering of Supernatural Psychopaths

As much as Hellboy might hate having to leave the Coven's leaders alone to face something as demented as It- and Angel and Blade _were _the team leaders; not even Spike at his most annoying would deny that the other two vampires were far and away their best tacticians-, the fact remained that Angel's plan had been the best division of their resources; something that powerful definitely required the team's sharpest tactical minds if they were going to stand a chance at victory, and the sheer range of powers Spawn possessed only increased their chances at walking away from that round.

Right now, the best thing he could do for them- his military 'training', no matter how unconventional it was, meant that Hellboy had sometimes found himself offering even the two vampires a few suggestions in a fight situation, which made him probably the most qualified person in their remaining number to take charge right now- was stick to Angel's plans and find Spencer and/or the skull as soon as possible; with less members of the Gathering to worry about, they could focus more on those who were left.

"Right then," he said, halting in his run after the group had hurried several metres down the nearest corridor, "with one of the Gathering's biggest guns currently occupied, I say we just stick to the plan and try and find the skull and the captain; sooner we get out of this creepy-ass place the happier _I'll _be, I can tell you that for nothing…"

"Lemme guess, you want us to stick to the _main _details of the plan as well, right?" Spike asked, raising an inquiring eyebrow as he looked pointedly at the large red demon. "Y'know, you'd _think _someone as big as you could think for himself-"

Whatever else Spike had been about to say was cut off when Hellboy stepped forward and grabbed the vampire by the throat with his 'normal' left hand, hauling him off his feet and pinning him to the wall behind him.

"I'm sorry; did anyone ever actually say that _you _were in a position to give orders here?" the large red demon asked, his eyes narrowed as he looked pointedly at his teammate. "Get the picture, _Spike_; when _you've _managed to lead your own team, you can tell the rest of us what to do. As it is…"

He shrugged slightly, a small smirk on his face as he did so. "Last time I checked, Angel and Blade have both managed to do a pretty good job of leading us so far, and they've already shown themselves to be good leaders even _before _coming here; far as I'm concerned, I'm prepared to stick to _their_ plans unless you've got something better you can offer."

For a moment Spike simply stared back at Hellboy, the expression that had managed to win him more than a few rounds of poker- even if it didn't always work, it had still paid off more than once in the past- concealing his thoughts on the matter from his teammates as effectively as any mask, before he sighed and nodded.

"OK, point; I _don't _have anything better…" he admitted, a clear tone of resignation in his voice as he looked back at the red-skinned demon. "But seriously, couldn't you at lest _consider _that I might-"

"Consider what you could offer to the plan when you actually _have_ something to offer to it; otherwise, stick to the plan and stay quiet," Hellboy said, glaring pointedly at Spike as he released his grip and turned to look at Constantine. "You're clear on what your group's up to?"

* * *

"Find Spencer and do what we can to stick him back into Pinhead; gotcha," Constantine said, nodding in confirmation before he looked over at Jason, Illyria and Cole. "You three clear on that?"

Confirming nods were all that the exorcist received from his 'team', but it was all he needed (Plus, of course, it was all that he could _expect _in Jason's case; the brief amount of conversation he'd given them earlier seemed to have exhausted the Crystal Lake Slasher's ability to communicate verbally, most likely due to the lack of practise he'd actually had with talking to people over the years).

"Right then," Hellboy said, nodding back at the detective as he checked his gun for bullets one last time before he turned back to the path before him. "My team'll take the left passage while your lot handles the right one. Try and avoid any members of the Gathering you might run into unless you end up _having _to fight them, and even then just leave your powerhouse to do the job; tracking down the skull and Captain Spencer takes _immediate _priority right now."

"What happens if we discover what the _other_ team's looking for?" Spike pointed out, a satisfied smirk on his face as he looked at Hellboy, an annoying 'I thought of something you didn't think of' expression on his face. "I mean, if we're meant to stick to the _plan_-"

"Just take it and backtrack to find the other team; these corridors don't look like they connect up again later, so going back to find the rest seems like the best option," Hellboy continued. "Strongest team member should continue to look for your Gathering item while the rest of the team take the one they've found to the other guys; John, I assume you'd stick with Jason if that happened?"

"Of course," John nodded, looking reassuringly over at the serial killer (He wondered how long it would take before he got used to the idea of trying to be _comforting _to a guy who'd killed over a hundred people) before he turned back to Hellboy. "Good luck."

"Same," Hellboy replied briefly, before he turned to look down the corridor. "OK team; let's roll."

With that, Hellboy raised his gun and hurried down the corridor before him, Cole and Spike close behind him as the rest of the group took the other corridor. Even as they started to run, Constantine kept his eyes peeled for any sign of a door that looked like it might hold one of the two things they were currently looking for; the room holding Spencer was likely to be one of the sturdier doors in the place, but given that the other Gathering members might require regular access to the Horseman's skull to keep him under control the door to wherever _that _object was kept wasn't likely to be too difficult to access.

Of course, there was also the possibility that Clown- nobody else could be controlling the Horseman; Clown was the closest thing the Gathering had to a clear thinker any more, and Constantine doubted he'd really trust any of the other already-powerful members with control of something that could make it even easier for them to kill him- kept the skull on him all the time, but Constantine doubted that. He still wasn't entirely clear on how 'loyal' the Horseman was to whoever held his head; for all they knew the guy would bail out of the fight as soon as he saw the opportunity to take the damn thing back from whoever had taken it away originally, meaning that it wouldn't be advisable for Clown to keep carrying it around in case it fell out and the Horseman grabbed it…

And he _really _shouldn't be thinking about that; he was on the team to recover Captain Spencer, _not _the Horseman's skull!

God, he'd been operating on his own for too long; he was _still _thinking like it was up to him and him alone to save the day this time around, despite the fact that he was working with an entire _team _of people who could do the job just as well as- hell, sometimes _better _than- he could. He had his job and the other guys had theirs; so long as they stuck to what they had to do here, everything would work out and be over and done sooner or later.

Now, if only they could find _something _that might help them in their current search effort…

"Here," Cole said, raising a hand as he halted in front of a door, looking over at Constantine as the rest of their small group drew to a halt. "There's someone behind this door."

"Some_one_?" Constantine repeated, looking critically at the Goldlighter as he raised an eyebrow while studying his friend. "What told you that; your 'Goldlighter sense'?"

"Essentially, yeah; one of my more minor abilities is knowing when innocents are in the immediate vicinity so that I can knock them out if they don't know about magic or stop them from getting hurt," Cole explained, as he raised one hand to generate an energy ball. "Shall I?"

"We don't exactly have the time to wait; I say go for it," Constantine said with a casual shrug.

"I agree with the little magician; we are too pressed for time to attempt more subtle means of entry," Illyria added, nodding in agreement while simultaneously ignoring the glare Constantine shot in her direction at the 'little magician' comment. As much as the Coven tried to accept Illyria's arrogance as just a part of her personality, it still sometimes annoyed them when she treated some of their number like their skills meant nothing; Angel, Spike and Hellboy were the only members of the original team she showed anything close to respect for, and Angel and Spike had been forced to earn it while Hellboy only achieved it thanks to a heritage he had never asked for and would be happy not to possess.

"Right then," Cole said as he turned back to face the door- there was no point in asking for Jason's opinion; the man might be on their side now, but none of them were certain of he could even understand what they were doing right now, to say nothing of being able to speak well enough to volunteer his opinion of anything-, summoning a quick energy ball and hurling it at the door's lock. Almost as soon as the ball had made contact the lock on the door had vanished, leaving it easy for the Coven members to casually open it and enter the room before them.

It didn't take long before their eyes settled on the figure that Cole must have sensed; a man in what looked like his mid-thirties, dressed in the uniform of a British army officer from the First World War, half-crouching, half-lying on the ground, weighted down by several chains that bound his arms and legs to the wall behind him. The chains were so long and thick that he was able to rest on the floor without the chains forcing him up, but they were simultaneously clearly so heavy that there was no way for him to actually _walk _anywhere even within the range of the limited amount of freedom they offered him.

"_Damn_…" Cole muttered, looking grimly at the figure before him before he turned to look at the others. "I think we found Captain Spencer."

"I agree," Constnatine said, nodding briefly at Cole before he turned to look at the other two. "Jason, Illyria, see what you can do about breaking those chains."

A brief nod was the only response Constantine received from the Coven's two most private members- he'd probably spent more time talking with _Spawn _than he'd spent with Illyria, despite the fact that Spawn had barely been on the team for more than a few days- as they stepped forward. As the two figures began to hack away at the chains holding the former British army captain immobile, Cole and Constantine were already moving to stand on either side of the Gathering's prisoner, each of them taking a hold of his arms to help him to his feet as the chains came loose and fell away from his body, leaving the man slumped on the ground.

"Captain Spencer?" Constantine asked, hurrying over to crouch down beside the prisoner, turning the captive's head to enable him to look the other man in the eyes. "My name is John Constantine; I'm a member of-"

"The Coven of Reformed Supernaturals, correct?" Spencer asked, looking up at the exorcist with a slight smile on his face. "I have… heard of you; the vampire had a certain… fondness for talking about what… he was doing to you without me."

"When you say 'he', you refer to the Cenobite that was once part of your soul?" Illyria put in, looking inquiringly at the man before them.

"Precisely," Spencer confirmed, nodding as he weakly got to his feet, Cole and Jason helping to remove the last of his chains as he took what were most likely his first unrestricted steps in some time. "He might represent the darkest part of my soul… the foulest, most perverted aspects of my own nature… but he is still a part of me…"

"And it always hurts when you get his actions thrown in your face like that, huh?" Constantine said, a grim expression on his face as he looked sympathetically at the man they had just rescued. "That's _gotta _suck…"

"Quite…" Spencer replied, his expression grim as he nodded briefly at the exorcist, before he sighed solemnly. "But… when faced with a choice between leaving that monster free to wreck the havoc that I know he is capable of…. or imposing upon him even the limited containment that my soul has to offer… there is no choice, is there?"

"Well…" Constantine said, looking uncomfortably at Spencer, "you gotta understand, we're _really _running out of ways to beat these bastards…"

"I understand completely, John Constantine; do _not _feel like you are putting pressure on me for your own ends," Spencer said, placing a reassuring hand on the exorcist's shoulder as he smiled weakly at the other man. "I have re-bonded to the Cenobite to save others once; I am prepared to do it again if I must."

The smile itself was blatantly insincere, of course- Constantine doubted that _anybody _could actually smile when faced with the prospect of being merged with a monster like Pinhead-, but he had to appreciate Spencer's attempt to make him feel better, even if it didn't work.

There were definitely times when being the hero sucked; why was it that the _only _way they could find to stop this Cenobite bastard was to force a decent- if misguided; he may had become a bit of a hedonist after the First World War but he could still sympathise with his fellow man- guy to merge with a nearly-homicidal demon with a penchant for torture and mutilation that made Angel's pre-soul methods seem positively pleasant; at least you could be sure that Angelus's torture would stop when you were dead…

"Thanks," Constantine said at last, looking regretfully at Captain Spencer. "I just… I wish there was another way to stop him."

"Sometimes there is only one way," Spencer replied simply, a solemn expression on his face before he turned to look at the other Coven members. "Let us go, before I… I believe the term is 'lose my nerve'."

* * *

As the small group walked through the corridor searching for the skull, Hellboy allowed himself a brief moment to reflect on the brief confrontation that had just taken place between him and Spike.

He had to admit, his confrontation with Spike had raised an interesting point; _why _was he so loyal to Angel when he continued to show such opposition even to Manning's attempts to order him around, despite the fact that the guy had shown him at least _some _respect ever since that whole mess with Rasputin and Kroenon? It wasn't like Angel was stronger than him, and as for his past…

He might have been around longer, but Hellboy had been fighting demons for humanity a lot longer than Angel had been; Angelus had spent a century and a half _killing _people before he got his soul back, and Angel had only been actually _saving _people for the last few years anyway…

But he did it anyway.

In the end, that was what really made Hellboy respect Angel, he supposed; while he saved the world because it was his job, Angel just did it because he wanted to. He might have earned a living out of it with that detective agency, but he'd only started _that _because he needed to support himself; from what they'd heard, when Angel had started fighting evil he'd done it because he _wanted _to.

OK, so it had been for a girl he'd seen once; personally, Hellboy could think of worse reasons for wanting to kick some ass, and the fact remained that Angel had started helping because he'd wanted to _help_, not because he wanted to get some action.

Besides, at least Angel could get out in the field with Hellboy to do some damage. Manning might have participated in the assault on Rasputin's tomb, but they'd gone there thinking it was going to only be a survey mission rather than the combat it had turned out to be, so it wasn't exactly an accurate reflection of his willingness to get into a fight.

In the end, the real difference between Angel and Manning wasn't just that Angel was a vampire while Manning was just a guy in the suit; it was the simple fact that Hellboy _trusted _Angel to watch his back in a fight, just like Angel would trust Hellboy to watch his (He still caught Manning looking at him like he wasn't sure if he was going to rip the guy's head off sometimes). Angel might be a vampire with a bigger body count behind him than you'd find in most wars, but you could still depend on him to back you up when the going got tough; Hellboy always felt like Manning was going to sell him out and shut the Bureau down the second it became 'politically inconvenient' to keep him on the payroll…

"This looks like the one we're looking for," Leo's voice suddenly said, breaking into Hellboy's train of thought. As the red-skinned demon turned to look at the Whitelighter, his eyes swiftly fell on the securely-locked metal door that his ally was currently indicating; it wasn't exactly a stretch to assume that something as potentially dangerous as the Horseman's skull was behind it.

"Damn…" Spike muttered, shaking his head as he looked at the door before him. "Big bit of work, isn't it?"

"Eh," Hellboy replied, shrugging slightly as he slid his gun back into its holster and walked forwards. "I've seen bigger."

Before Spike or Leo could respond to Hellboy's statement, he lashed out with a powerful punch from his stone hand, causing the door to be separated from its hinges as it was bent practically double from the sheer force of the punch. Barely even pausing for breath, Hellboy reached up to grab the upper part of the door, yanked its battered remains out of the frame, and hurled it off to one side, leaving only the now-empty door frame in front of the three Coven members.

"Well," Spike said after a moment's pause, glancing up at Hellboy, "good thing we're not here to be subtle, mmm?"

"Ah, shut up," Hellboy retorted, waving a dismissive hand at Spike as the three of them walked into the room.

A quick glance at their surroundings was all that the three Coven members required to confirm that this room was the location of the Horseman's skull.The skull in question lay before a small pile of stones covered with a few pieces of blackened wood, hinting at the recent presence of a fire, on top of a large round wooden table. Several candles were positioned behind the stone fire, the materials giving the impression of a very ritual-specific style of magic that relied little on the power of the caster and more on their ability to gather the correct materials and elements. Given what he'd read in the Horseman's file, Leo- the only actual magic 'expert' in the room; Hellboy and Spike's knowledge of spells were both amateur at best- was prepared to bet that this ritual was the result of the witch who'd originally summoned the Horseman lacking much actual magical power of her own, forcing her to rely on artificial enhancements rather than her own powers; with the Horseman having been summoned this way once, the Gathering had probably considered it easier to use what already worked rather than come up with something themselves.

"That's it?" Spike muttered, shaking his head slightly as he studied the set-up before them. "Seems so… _basic_."

"Well, the witch who created it didn't have much in the way of actual magic herself; she probably needed all these materials just to provide herself with the right kind of magical conduit to control the Horseman in the first place," Leo said, before he turned to look at Hellboy. "You should probably take the skull; you're the best-equipped of any of us to deal with any attempts to take it if we run into some of the other Gathering members before we can find the Horseman."

"Gotcha," Hellboy said, walking over to pick up the skull, holding it in his stone hand as he studied it with a slight smile. "Well, at least _something's _going our way here; we've been stuck with _re_acting to those guys for _way _too long…"

"Uh… maybe this is a dumb question," Spike said, raising a casual hand as he looked curiously at the large red demon, "but what'd happen if we just _crushed _this damn thing and left the Horseman to run around like an even more literally headless chicken?"

"There's no way of knowing _what _that would do to the Horseman, Spike," Leo pointed out as he looked over at the vampire. The team's other vampire with a soul might be an effective ally, but his attitude at times made it obvious why the Coven preferred Angel as their leader; Spike was an effective fighter and good at working with groups once he'd shown that he could be trusted, but he often proved incapable of thinking of any kind of strategy more complicated than simply killing the other guy despite all the demons he'd encountered since joining the Coven. "Destroying his skull while he's active _could _kill him for good, but it could just as easily leave him running around without anyone controlling him and no way of sending him back; we just don't _know_."

"So, in other words, we're _guessing _that everything'll be better if we just give the sod his head back, right?" Spike said, shaking his head as he stared up at the ceiling in frustration. "Great… not only are we bloody guessing about why all these sods got stuck together on a team in the first place, we're even guessing what we need to do to _stop _them…"

"That's life; sometimes it just sucks," Hellboy said, his tone dismissive as he threw the skull into a pocket of his large coat before he turned to look at the other two. "Anyway, we'd better get back to the others; even if John's team ain't found anything yet, Angel's group might need some help with that 'It' sucker."

"Want us to keep an eye out for Headless at the same time, right?" Spike asked, as the three of them walked out of the room where the skull had been kept and began to head off back down the corridor that they had walked up only recently.

_Well_, Hellboy mused, his flesh hand over the pocket containing the skull as he walked- with something as potentially important as this particular object, he didn't believe in taking chances-, _that's one stage completed; all we need to do now is _find _the bastard and we've taken another Gathering member out of the equation_.

He just wished he could be certain that it would be as easy to accomplish as it was to think…


	21. Round Six: Surviving IT

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the members of the Coven, nor do I own the Coven's allies, or the various members of the Gathering

Feedback: I'd appreciate that, trust me

The Gathering of Supernatural Psychopaths

"WATCH OUT!" Angel yelled, barely managing to intercept Its leg with one of his throwing daggers as It attempted to impale Blade with the leg in question. The dagger barely caused more than a small scratch to appear on Its leg- the fact that the creature, by its very _nature_, didn't exist entirely in 'sync' with everything else made it difficult to harm it with physical weapons-, but the yell alone managed to distract It enough to throw its aim off by a fraction, allowing Blade to dodge the worst of the attack and kick out at the leg.

Its body's natural 'armour', harder than conventional skin, proved sufficient to prevent even Blade's vampiric strength from doing any significant damage to the monster they currently faced- so far It had yet to use its shapeshifting abilities to any kind of extent, presumably preferring to use those to induce fear in its younger victims while relying on its raw strength against them-, but the force of the punch was still enough to knock It off-balance long enough for Spawn to launch his own attack.

"Try _this _on for size, ugly!" the former black ops assassin roared, thrusting one hand forward and directing his chains at the monstrous form opposite him. Whether it was because of Spawn's nature as a Hellspawn, the sheer raw power possessed by the chains and Spawn's costume, or a combination of the two, Spawn's attack seemed to be more successful. The chains seemed to actually penetrate Its hide, releasing some kind of strange fluid that seemed to Angel be somehow simultaneously black and orange in colour; most likely the fluid served as the equivalent of whatever this thing used for blood.

Admittedly, Angel knew that what they were fighting right now wasn't It in Its _true _state- they were just fighting whatever parts of It could 'safely' manifest in even this dimension without causing a significant disruption of reality-, but at the same time it was still real enough to actually cause the thing pain.

Whether it would be enough to turn the tide in this particular battle…

Angel didn't know; all he could do was cross his fingers and hope for the best.

When facing something as dangerous as It- particularly when he still didn't know the full extent of _what _this thing was capable of; shape-shifting to inspire fear could mean that it only _appeared _to change its appearance or that it genuinely became whatever it looked like-, his best was all that he could realistically hope to achieve…

Then another of Its legs were thrust in his direction, and Angel forced his mind back to the task before him; surviving an assault against a nearly omnipotent monster. Grabbing the limb mere moments before it would have pierced his chest, Angel twisted the limb with all his strength, creating a brief crack in its armour before he was thrown back against the wall as It screamed in pain. Blade and Spawn moved to try and defend their leader, but another powerful swipe of the creature's legs sent the two flying back before they could get in close enough to do any damage. As he fought to regain his balance and get back to his feet, Angel tried to block Its subsequent thrust to his head, but still sustained a nasty gash that left blood trickling into his right eye and a ringing in his head. Even as he fought to think clearly through the pain, he could see It raising a leg to impale him again, his mind currently too disorientated to do anything more about it than stare dazedly at the sight before him, Blade and Spawn too far away to help him…

"Hey, bug-boy!" a voice yelled from behind Angel, breaking through the pain and confusion that had temporarily taken over his brain. "Eat _this_!"

There was a sudden small explosion of the strange blackish-orange-green substance that Angel could only assume served as whatever passed for Its blood from Its main body, and the creature that had been about to tear his throat out suddenly retreated back towards the nearest wall, letting out a sound that was probably whatever counted as a scream from something this twisted and inhuman.

There was only two people with a voice that deep who used weapons like that in this location, and not only were both of them were on Angel's side, but the volume of the shot made it clear which one of them had just saved the vampire's unlife.

"Hellboy?" Angel said, tilting his head back slightly, allowing him to glimpse the now-familiar form of the large red demon standing behind him, a smoking gun in Hellboy's left hand aimed at the location where Its head had been only moments ago.

"Hi," Hellboy said, nodding briefly at Angel as he lowered the gun, revealing the rest of the search teams that had left earlier standing behind him. "Sorry we're late; there were a _lot _of rooms to check for these things."

Shaking his head to clear it of the last lingering disorientation, Angel staggered back to his feet, smiling slightly at the assorted members of the Coven now standing before him as Blade and Spawn hurried over to join the rest of the team. Angel was just opening his mouth to ask how their searches had gone, but then he heard the sound of something large moving behind him and knew that questions would have to wait for at least another few seconds.

"Get It!" he yelled, spinning around and pointing at the monstrous spider-like form as it stood before them, blood' still trickling from the wound that Hellboy had just caused. Even before Angel had begun to move towards his current enemy, Hellboy and Constantine had already loaded their weapons to fire at the creature before them, followed closely by energy balls from Cole, Spawn's serrated chains and Blade's silver sharp-edged 'boomerang' weapon (Angel wondered if he should actually bother asking Blade what that was called; given that he'd never use it himself- it wasn't his kind of weapon- it wasn't particularly important, but it did annoy him).

Before the remaining Coven members could reach the creature to launch their own physical attacks, the monstrous spider-thin 'hopped'- a stupid term, Angel knew, but the thing only went a couple of feet into the air; 'jumped' seemed like an exaggeration- off the ground, blurred in front of them for a few seconds, and then a massive monstrous bird-like creature was flying off down the corridor, its wingspan somehow simultaneously appearing too big to be allowed inside anything and yet comfortably allowing the creature to fly down the corridor without needing to fold its wings in to accommodate its size.

After staring after the large bird-creature for a few seconds, Spike voiced the Coven's thoughts on the matter.

"Ugly sucker, wasn't it?" he said, looking over at his grandsire with a grim smirk.

"It made Drusilla's last interest look almost cute," Angel agreed, his own expression equally grim as he looked back at Spike.

"I take it that's not a compliment, huh?" Constantine asked.

"Given that she left me for a guy who was all 'slime and antlers', you're right there Johnny-boy," Spike said, nodding in confirmation at the exorcist before he turned to look at Blade and Spawn. "You two doing OK?"

"As well as you'd expect," Blade replied, flexing his neck slightly as he looked grimly at his allies. "Knew it was going to be tough fighting this class of bad guy after tackling vampires for so many years; I just didn't expect having to go up against something THAT tough…"

"Trust me, it doesn't get any easier even when you know that kind of thing's out there," Spawn muttered, wincing slightly as he held his hand at a cut on his arm; even if his armour took the brunt of the damage in a fight and automatically healed it as soon as possible, that still didn't stop the fact that the more serious wounds still hurt him at least slightly whenever they made contact. "Hell, according to Cogliostro I'm one of the most powerful suckers out there and I run into things that give me trouble at _least _once a week back home!"

"And now here you are on our team, huh?" Constantine muttered, a slightly amused smile on his face as he looked at Spawn. "It's almost like buses, really; you wait for ages and then they all come charging in at once…"

"Hey, at least you sods have _got _lives outside this group; do you know how long it's been since Peaches, Blue and me kicked ass that _wasn't _Coven-level evil?" Spike asked, jerking his thumb at his allies. "We barely even go out for drinks any more-!"

"We did not do that even when I was not here," Illyria pointed out, looking over at Spike with an expression that the Coven were used to; confusion and frustration combined on the former God-King's face, reflecting her uncertainty about the nature of Spike's query combined with her frustration at not being able to understand it.

"Figure of speech, Blue; didn't Fred's memories tell you _that_?" Spike muttered, rolling his eyes in frustration.

"_Spike_…" Angel muttered, looking warningly over at the other vampire, before he turned to look at the only unfamiliar face in the group that had just arrived. "Sorry about that… Captain Spencer, I assume?"

"Indeed," the man replied, nodding slightly at the vampire. "And you would be… Angel, I take it?"

"Yeah, that's me," Angel said, smiling slightly sympathetically at the army captain standing before him. "Look, I know that we're asking a lot of you, but-"

"There is no other way to guarantee that the monster I was will withdraw, correct?" Captain Spencer replied, smiling grimly at Angel. "As I have already assured Mr Constantine, Angel, I appreciate that you would not ask me to resort to such measures if you were not certain that you had no other option available to you."

At that comment, Angel could only wait for a moment, looking silently at the man before him, before he held out a hand.

As Captain Spencer reached out to shake the offered hand, Angel could only give him a slight smile.

"Thanks," he said, shaking his head slightly as he looked regretfully at the other man. "I just… believe me, I've been where you are, and if there was another way I'd do _everything _I could to keep you two apart-"

"As I have learned the hard way, this is the _only _way to contain my demon from causing chaos on the scale that he is capable of," Captain Spencer said, shaking his head slightly as he smiled reassuringly at Angel. "Your concern for me is… appreciated… but it is unnecessary; I have long since come to accept the punishment that must be mine if the world is not to fall to the monster I bear within."

"He's _that _dangerous?" Cole asked, looking over at Spencer in surprise. "I mean, he's a tough fighter, but…"

"So far the Gathering have only permitted him and him alone to be unleashed from the Lament Configuration," Spencer explained, as he turned to look at the Goldlighter. "Should he be given the opportunity to roam free, with the Configuration in his possession and in his current condition, it would only require the slightest effort for him to unleash a limitless amount of Cenobites upon the world; the Gathering only keep him contained for the present because it suits their purpose."

"Their 'purpose'?" Leo interjected, looking at the former British officer with renewed interest. "Do you-?"

"Know what that purpose is?" Spencer finished, shaking his head grimly. "I do not; all I am certain of is that it involves this group, but in what capacity I cannot say. The vampire was the only among you who ever spoke to me- my other side was… unwilling… to make contact with me and the others were perceived as being too low in intellect and simultaneously too high in power to avoid doing permanent damage that might affect him as well as me-, and she, naturally, never gave anything away."

"Dru all over," Spike muttered, exchanging a brief, rueful glance with Angel as the two vampires nodded slightly in reflection. "Daft as a brush, but she knew what she was doing when she had to do it."

For a moment, the Coven simply stood in silent reflection, Angel and Spike remembering the woman they'd known while their teammates contemplated this latest confirmation that there was more to the Gathering than just a desire to slaughter innocents, before Spawn broke

"So…" the former black ops assassin asked, looking uncertainly at Spencer, "how does this whole… merging you and Pinhead back together thing… well, how does that _work_, anyway? I mean, do we need a ritual or something to stick you two together…?"

"Simple physical contact and the will from one of us to rejoin the other is all that is required in a place like this," Captain Spencer replied, nodding briefly at the former assassin in acknowledgement of his query. "The rules that bind and separate us are at their most… flexible… outside the true world from which we all come; in our current location, once we are close enough to each other, there are fundamentally no rules but what the strongest will wishes to be true…"

"And that's you, right?" Spike asked, looking pointedly at the former British soldier. "No offence, but given that he's always the one in charge when you're sharing a body…"

"While my monster may dominate our 'partnership' in terms of sheer raw willpower, he and I are, always and forever, part of the same soul," Spencer replied, looking over at the vampire as he spoke. "For all that he dominates our combined self by dictating what actions he commit or what words we say, I remain fundamentally whole when we are separated, my personality and nature unaltered by his absence. My monster, on the other hand, lacks the balance that I would normally bring to our 'union'; he will kill indiscriminately, with no further thought but his own gratification and lust for blood, until he is constrained by me and acquires his… calmer side."

"You 'calm' him?" Illyria inquired, looking curiously at the British officer.

"I make him… open to bargains; he is willing to ignore his immediate impulses in favour of thinking on a more… long-term basis," Captain Spencer clarified, looking briefly over at Illyria before he turned back to face Angel. "You possess something that you intend to offer him in exchange for leaving the Gathering, I take it?"

"We were thinking… we could give him It and the Creeper in exchange for leaving us alone, letting us find that… Lament Configuration thing we read about?" Angel said, looking slightly uncertainly at the man before him. "Do… do you think that would work?"

"As good a plan as any," Captain Spencer replied, a slight smile on his face as he nodded in approval at the vampire. "You will need to make the terms of the deal clear; while I do not doubt that he would greatly desire such individuals as permanent 'specimens', you must not give him any opportunity to arrange a 'compromise' that would allow him to attack you before you have delivered them to him. Violator keeps the box on him at all times; defeat him and force him into human form, and you shall claim that which you seek."

"You mean we've got to _search _that fat lump of shit?" Blade muttered, shaking his head as he gritted his teeth in frustration. "God… _that _ain't going to be pretty…"

"Don't worry about it," Constantine said, nodding reassuringly over at the hybrid as he glanced over at Cole. "Between me and Cole, I'm pretty sure we can whip something up to let us know where he's keeping something _that _powerful."

"I have a certain… sensitivity for the box myself; I will b e able to tell you where it is, but I cannot take it for myself," Spencer said, looking over at Constantine with a slightly apologetic glance. "You need only concentrate on eliminating the remaining members of the Gathering, Mr Constantine; merely immobilise Clown and I shall do the rest as far as finding the box is concerned."

"Ah," Constantine, looking slightly annoyed for a moment- evidently he'd been looking forward to the chance to practise his spellwork; as the only Coven member who regularly used it he enjoyed the chance to demonstrate one of the few things he could do better than the other, stronger members of the team- before he shrugged and raised his gun. "Well then, good thing I'm fully-armed, huh?"

"Yeah," Angel said, nodding slightly at the exorcist. "You, Cole and Spawn should probably handle the Creeper- given that it can naturally fly long-range tactics are our best bet there-, Hellboy and I will do what we can with It; Blade, as our best swordsman you're our best chance of holding off the Horseman until we've taken the box from Clown; Spike, Leo, you two do what you can to force Violator back into Clown so Spencer can tell you where the box is; Illyria, you and Jason need to keep Pinhead occupied so he doesn't realise what we're planning. Once we have the box, we return the Horseman's skull to him and let him take Clown out of the picture for us; after that, we get Spencer and Pinhead back together, and then have him take the remaining two back to his realm. OK?"

"Sounds like a plan," Cole said, nodding in approval at his friend.

"Agreed," Spike added, as he looked around at the rest of the group- all of them demonstrating their approval of their leader's scheme- before he turned back to face Angel. "So, with the obvious issue of who does what in this fight essentially sorted out, shall we go and kick some bad guy arse?"

Looking around at the rest of the Coven, Angel couldn't help but smile as he saw the grim resolution on the faces of all his allies.

Even now, when they were about to deliberately try and find a group consisting of five of the most ruthless and powerful killers to ever walk the planet- at least _four _of whom couldn't be killed by any conventional means and with only the barest hopes of a plan to take them out-, he could see nothing but resolution on their faces. From Hellboy and Spawn to Leo and Constantine- from the Coven's most powerful members to its least-, none of the people before him gave any sign that they were going to give up.

Despite the severity of the situation, Angel couldn't help but feel touched.

He might never actually _be _human any more, but it was moments like _this _that reminded Angel that humanity wasn't defined by his ability to breath… Hell, in some cases it wasn't even defined by your _origins_.

If such a diverse group as this could come together to fight evil, defying their origins- hell, in many cases defying their very _natures_- to defend those who couldn't defend themselves, there _had _to be something more to humanity than just being born to human parents.

Some of their number had never even _been _human- or, in Cole's case, had never been _completely _human-, some of them were so far from where they'd started that they probably didn't even count as human any more, and even Constantine- the most human of the group- had never been _entirely _normal…

But that wasn't going to stop them from defending those who _were _normal.

People should never have to see what the Coven's members battled on virtually a daily basis; the fact that some of the Coven weren't entirely human themselves just made it all the more imperative for them to keep their conflict in the dark.

"Yeah," Angel said at last, nodding grimly at the group around him as he ended his brief period of self-reflection. "Let's go kick some ass."

With that, he raised his sword, gave it an experimental twirl in his hand to make sure he had the feel for it, and then turned around to walk in the direction that It had just run off in, followed closely by the rest of the Coven.

_Here goes nothing_… he reflected grimly, already going over possible strategies for how this might work out.

If the Horseman and Pinhead reacted like he and the others had predicted they'd react, than they might just have a chance at walking out of this fight alive.

If not…

_Well_, Angel reflected grimly, as he looked back at the team that had filled the hole left by the deaths of his original crew, _I can think of worse people to die fighting alongside_.

Then they walked around a corner into a large hall resembling an old-fashioned gladiator arena, the remaining members of the Gathering standing just opposite them, and Angel shifted his thoughts away from death.

Right now, he had the more immediate concern of survival to deal with.


	22. Round Seven: Distract the Gathering

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the members of the Coven, nor do I own the Coven's allies, or the various members of the Gathering

Feedback: I'd appreciate that, trust me

The Gathering of Supernatural Psychopaths

"So, you finally showed up, huh?" Clown asked, smirking slightly as he looked around at the Coven members as they lined up opposite the Gathering, their weapons drawn as they glared at their twisted opposites (Angel risked a brief glance behind himself to confirm that Captain Spencer was waiting in the shadows of the corridor they'd just entered by; they couldn't let Pinhead see that he was there until the Cenobite was in a position where Spencer could touch him). "What took you so long; trying to plan what order you want us to kill ya in?"

"Not really," Angel replied, casually placing his sword tip on the ground as he stepped forward to address the Gathering's 'leader', the rest of the Coven raising their weapons in preparation for the upcoming battle. "Actually, we were just coming up with new ways to kill _you_."

"And?" Clown asked, chuckling briefly as he looked at them, a casual grin on his face. "Get any interesting ideas?"

"One or two," Angel said, raising his sword off the ground as he shifted into a combat stance. "_Attack_!"

The Gathering barely had enough time to prepare themselves for the upcoming assault before they found themselves faced with the full force of the Coven of Reformed Supernaturals, the ten-man group tearing into the Gathering's remaining five members with shocking force. It didn't take long to establish that Angel's original plan of attack hadn't worked out- half of the Coven had been unable to position themselves to attack the targets that Angel had 'allocated' for them out in the corridor, so they had to just make do with whoever was nearest-, but the Coven nevertheless held their ground, refusing to allow their opponents the opportunity to regain the advantage.

Their raw power swiftly allowed the Gathering to regain their balance and fight back against their opponents for the most part, but the suddenness of the attack had given the Coven a few vital advantages. Clown in particular lacked the necessary time to shift into his Violator form before the Coven reached him- he was too vulnerable during the first few seconds of the transformation to be certain they wouldn't just kill him before he could finish it-, forcing him to fight against Leo and Constantine with nothing more than a fairly basic level of superhuman strength and endurance, which was only enough to allow him to hold his own against the two stronger, faster men given his small size and sheer bulk without actually gaining any kind of edge over them.

The rest of the Coven, however, did not have it as easy as the Whitelighter and the exorcist, being forced to confront their respective opponents while their rivals were at full strength. Angel once again found himself going up against It, this time accompanied by Jason, while Spike and Cole confronted the Creeper, Spawn and Illyria keeping Pinhead occupied while Blade and Hellboy found themselves going toe-to-toe with the Horseman without allowing their foe the opportunity to use his powerful sword against them.

Fighting the Horseman might have been a risky manoeuvre, but the demon and the Daywalker both knew that keeping the sucker occupied was their only real hope right now; with so many of his 'teammates' still active and in such close proximity to the sucker, the chances of somebody intercepting the skull if it was thrown at him made it too risky to try this stunt.

As with their plan for sticking Pinhead and Captain Spencer back together, this was all a matter of timing; they had to wear down Clown, the Creeper and It _before _they tried to 'convince' Pinhead and the Horseman to do things their way, no matter how tempting it was to try things the other way around.

The Coven just wished they'd come up with this when the Gathering's weaker members were working with their main 'targets', rather then when the Gathering was down to its strongest members…

* * *

"_Damnit_!" Spike yelled, diving to one as the Creeper slashed out with claws capable of tearing through a man's ribcage in a matter of seconds. "This sod is _quick_!"

"Tell me about it; I've never had _this _many energy balls miss their target!" Cole said, preparing and hurling another of the aforementioned weapons at the bat-zombie-like thing that was currently attacking them. "Look, you've got the faster reflexes of the two of us; couldn't you… I don't know, _grab _that sucker or something?"

"Oh, and what do I do then; it's still _stupidly _strong in case you hadn't noticed!" Spike added, narrowly avoiding another slash of the Creeper's claws as he tried to retaliate with a blow from his own weapon; he thought that he'd managed to scratch the creature's arm, but at the speed it was currently attacking him it was practically impossible to be certain. "You're the one with the magic; isn't there _anything _you can do to get this thing to back off until we're ready for it?"

The glare that Cole shot in Spike's direction was all the response the vampire needed; evidently he was already using his powers to the fullest extent that they could be useful in this confrontation, and he was just as frustrated as Spike was that it wasn't doing any good.

Spike couldn't believe it himself; how could something that was apparently comprised of various random body-parts be _this _difficult to put down? He'd heard some stories from the one-eyed git about that 'Darryl' sod who'd been stitched back together by his own brother after dying in an accident, and that sod certainly hadn't been that quick on his feet, and he'd encountered more than enough amalgamated zombie corpses over the years to know that those things were almost _always _slow from having so much random bodyparts put together (Adam didn't exactly count; he'd always figured that the mechanical parts of that bastard helped make up for the speed he would have lost by nature)…

Then a slash from the Creeper's claws nearly gouged out one of his eyes, and Spike forced his mind back to the matter at hand; with his life at stake right now, he had more important things to worry about right now than wondering about the _how _of this creep's abilities…

* * *

Staring up at the monstrous spider-like creature before him, Angel couldn't help but shudder.

No matter how often he saw this thing- and he _really _hoped he didn't have to look at it for much longer- thus sucker did _not _get any prettier; even without the headache that continued to nag away at him whenever he looked at it in this plane of existence, just being in the presence of It made him feel…

_Itchy_, was the best term he could come up with; it was as though some part of him was becoming increasingly aware that he shouldn't be in Its presence any more than It should exist in this dimension…

Of course, the discomfort wasn't helped by the creature's attempts to slash away at him with its massive legs; it hadn't tried shapeshifting yet- actually, Angel wasn't sure if it had _ever _really shapeshifted in their confrontations with It; maybe it only did that when facing children because of the relative 'purity' of their emotions or something like that-, but its natural form was still dangerous enough to make fighting it physically _really _difficult. Not only was it practically impossible to do any actual _damage _to the damn thing no matter where he sliced at It- as he'd experienced the last time he fought It, Its hide was so tough that it deflected all but a few of his attempts to wound It-, but its claws were still sharp enough to make even the _possibility _of him getting impaled something he'd rather avoid…

Just as a leg was beginning to hurtle towards Angel's chest, a powerful form clad in dirty rags rammed into the leg, forcing it off to one side as a large thick weapon slashed along the creature's chest before It was practically _yanked _off to Angel's left.

Glancing over in that direction, Angel wasn't surprised to see Jason hacking away at the creature in a blind rage; the Crystal Lake Slasher might lack much in the way of forward planning or tactical skills, but when it came to delivering damage he definitely knew what he was doing, and against something capable of tapping into his fears- Jason's child-like mind probably made him more susceptible to It than any of them- he probably had all the more reason to be enraged at its existence.

Admittedly, none of the damage he was doing was ever _fatal_- the creature moved too quickly for the slow-moving Jason to do any serious damage, and Its armour proved just as much of a hindrance to Jason as it had been for Angel-, but that didn't matter too much; in any fight, Jason's main strength lay in his ability to _take _damage, even if his ability to deliver it was pretty good as well.

Besides, right now they didn't _need _to kill It; with their current plan, all they had to do was keep it occupied long enough for them to reach the next stage of their latest plan.

(Of course, if the plan in question failed, Angel wasn't entirely sure _what _they'd do to take It out, but he was sure they'd come up with something if they had to deal with _that _worst-case scenario…)

* * *

As he ducked under yet another chain from nowhere summoned by Pinhead, Spawn briefly found himself wishing that he had that kind of power available to him; he might be able to produce chains himself, but he could only summon them directly from his body…

Then, as one of the chains came hurtling towards him, he sliced away at it with one of his blades, and watched with a certain satisfaction as it vanished as soon as it was damaged; Pinhead might be able to summon more of these things than he could, but they didn't stick around as long as his own.

_Plus, of course_, Spawn mused, glancing over at where Illyria was ducking and weaving around the chains Pinhead was currently attempting to use to try and immobilise her, _the backup helps_…

Illyria might not have the level of power she claimed to have once possessed- Spawn trusted Angel and Spike when they said that she'd once been more powerful than she was now, but it was hard to be certain when he'd never seen her in action back then himself-, but she could still take a beating and come back fists flying with the rest of them.

Hell, her costume- it sounded rather 'kiddy' to Spawn, but he couldn't think of a better term for it; her clothing was too thin in appearance to really be called 'armour' and 'outfit' sounded too flimsy to him- alone was some interesting bit of work; so far nothing Pinhead had thrown against it had managed to penetrate it, even if she was definitely feeling the bruises from the assault.

"You _are _a strong one," Pinhead mused, smiling slightly as he stared at Illyria as she stood before him the former Old One in a combat stance as she glared at the creature before her. "I look forward to testing your limits…"

"I have already experienced tests at the hands of the white-haired half-breed; that is more than enough for me at present," Illyria countered, glaring back at the Cenobite. "You shall _not _test me again."

"There is no choice," Pinhead replied, a slight smile remaining on his face as he looked at her. "Sooner or later, everyone will be tested."

"You want to be tested, asshole?" Spawn cut in, prompting the Cenobite to turn in his direction. "Try _this _on for size!"

With that, he lashed out at their foe with a powerful blow, his armour automatically generating several blades as his fist dug into Pinhead's stomach, allowing himself a slight smile as he saw Pinhead's mouth open in a brief gasp of pain.

It wasn't much of a victory, but against something this powerful it was more than he could realistically expect; in the end, all they had to really do was keep this sucker occupied until the rest of the Gathering weren't in any position to stop them sticking Pinhead and Spencer back together (Spencer had assured them that Pinhead had little real interest in revenge for previous 'defeats' himself- on one- which at least meant they didn't have to worry about holding back on the grounds that he'd be angry at them later).

Quite frankly, Spawn was just grateful they actually had _any _kind of plan available right now for dealing with this son of a bitch; so far he'd given this guy everything he had and the bastard wasn't even _bleeding_ that much, never mind any _other _signs of pain…

* * *

As he ducked under yet another attempted blow from his demonic opponent, Leo couldn't help but wonder at what point his life had become so utterly bizarre even by conventional Whitelighter standards. As though being technically deceased wasn't strange enough after living a normal mortal life, he now found himself forced to go up against demons of a kind so terrifying that some of them literally defied _any _form of clarification… and that was only looking at some of the creatures he faced with the Charmed Ones; when he was working with the Coven he found himself facing some _really _disturbing stuff.

Still, all in all he had to admit that his current fight wasn't as bad as some of the opponents he'd faced in his time; Violator was a particularly dangerous example of demonkind when he was operating at full strength, but as long as he and John kept Clown occupied he wouldn't have time to transform into his more effective state; Spawn had confirmed that Clown was essentially vulnerable for those few seconds when he was transforming, which meant that right now their best bet was to keep him so focused on fighting them that he didn't have _time _to transform.

_Of course_, Leo reflected grimly as a punch from Clown sent him staggering back, briefly winded from the force of the blow, _that doesn't mean he's a pushover like _this…

That was the problem with facing shape-shifting demons, really; although they were undeniably deadlier in their true demonic form, that didn't mean they couldn't do some pretty effective damage in their human forms either. Clown's bulk in this form might be more fat than it was muscle, but that still left him with enough physical presence to do some not-insignificant damage in a fight while simultaneously making it hard to do any real damage to him in return (The fact that he didn't technically have a human body meant that any minor injuries to this form quickly healed up, and even serious ones like losing a limb would probably only debilitate him for a few moments even if he was that careless in the first place)…

Then Constantine drew the Holy Shotgun and aimed it at Clown's head, and the fighting momentarily came to a halt as Clown found himself looking anxiously down the barrel of the gun.

"Uh… can we talk about this?" the rotund demon asked uncertainly.

"_No_," Constantine replied grimly. "You're the closest thing the Gathering's got to a leader; we're members of the Coven. It gets kind of simple from there, don't you think?"

"Point…" Clown muttered, bowing his head slightly as though in resignation, before he looked sharply up with a broad smirk. "Hey, Horseman; got a couple of treats over here for you!"

It was almost automatic; as soon as the Horseman 'heard' Clown- although none of the Coven could imagine how something with no ears could manage to 'hear' anything-, he had lashed out at Blade with a powerful kick, sending the hybrid staggering back as it turned to walk towards its 'master', Hellboy apparently forgotten as he stood behind it and had yet to attack it since Clown's order.

Leo and Constantine exchanged brief smiles as Hellboy's flesh hand entered his pocket.

It might be risky, but at least they could be fairly certain that _this _part of the plan would work out…


	23. Round Eight: The Gathering Ends

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the members of the Coven, nor do I own the Coven's allies, or the various members of the Gathering

Feedback: I'd appreciate that, trust me

The Gathering of Supernatural Psychopaths

As the Horseman turned to walk towards Constantine, Leo and Clown, Hellboy's fingers closed on the object that he'd been awaiting his cue to use.

_Here goes nothing_…

"Horseman!" the red-skinned demon yelled, the skull clutched in his flesh hand as he stared at his opponent, praying that Angel's idea would pay off; this had to be the most desperate 'plan' to take out the bad guy he'd ever tried to put into action, and he'd once allowed a demon to _swallow _him in order to blow it up. "_Catch_!"

Before any of the other Gathering members could do anything- although the punch in the mouth Clown had just received from Constantine kept him distracted at the crucial moment, and the other three were so focused on defeating their own opponents that they barely registered what any of the others were doing-, Hellboy had hurled the skull through the air, only for it to land directly in the Horseman's hand as he _spun_ around to grab it, Blade having stepped back from the fight as soon as he saw his teammate remove the skull from his pocket.

Even as the Horseman slid his sword into its scabbard and began to place his skull onto his neck, Hellboy had already spun around to fire another shot at It, his gun quickly targeting the creature's monstrously-sized leg and leaving the leg suddenly a couple of significant feet shorter than it had been.

Seizing on the opportunity presented by his teammate, Angel lunged forward to plunge his sword into the now-'bleeding' hole in the creature's hide, prompting It to let out a strangled scream from whatever passed for its throat as it reeled back. The sound was so horrific that even the Creeper and Pinhead momentarily paused what they were doing to look in the direction that the scream had come from, giving Cole and Spawn a crucial opportunity to score another powerful blow against their current adversaries while they were distracted that sent both of them falling to the ground.

For a moment, as the Coven looked around, the Gathering were momentarily immobilised, the Creeper, It and Pinhead briefly immobilised from pain while Clown stared anxiously at the Horseman as his head finished regenerating itself.

"Oh shit…" he muttered, shaking his head in a panicked manner as the Horseman turned to look at him, his head now restored- revealing pale skin and a wild shock of dark hair with unusually sharpened teeth and wide vivid blue eyes- and a sadistic grin on his face as he stared at his former 'leader'.

"Now, look here," the demonic clown said, holding up his hands to look pleadingly at his old 'teammate', "I'm sure you're a bit hacked off about getting dragged out of hell like that, but we can work _something _out-"

The Horseman didn't even bother replying- although none of the Gathering were sure whether he was even capable of speech; the restoration of his head had restored his neck physically, but would his vocal chords have regenerated given that he didn't actually 'need' them?- as he walked over to Clown, grabbing the portly demon by the neck and hauling him up like he was manhandling a child.

"Look, is there _any _way we can-?" Clown began, only to be cut off as Constantine walked up to the guy quickly hit him in the side of the head, the Holy Knuckledusters on his hands as Clown slumped into unconsciousness.

The Horseman barely even seemed to have registered the exorcist's efforts- done mainly to stop them worrying about Clown's rantings rather than anything else-, simply casually walking over to a door in the nearest wall, which opened to reveal a whirling distorted mass of red before them, the images among the red moving by too quickly for any of the Coven to make out. As the Horseman stepped through the door, dragging Clown behind him, there was a brief, short 'splash' as a red liquid that Angel, Blade and Spike immediately identified as blood surrounded the floor around the door, and then the door vanished, the faint sound of whinnying from outside the hall where they were currently fighting the only indication that the Horseman's horse had returned to Hell with him.

* * *

Angel was the first member of the Coven to recover his senses; with the Gathering having lost the only member capable of thinking of a plan more complicated than 'kill them', they had to take the others out as fast as possible. With It still temporarily immobilised by his last attack, Angel turned around and ran towards the still-slightly stunned Creeper, stabbing his sword through its chest to pin it to the ground.

"Captain Spencer!" Angel yelled, turning to look at the door where Pinhead's human half was waiting. "Now's your cue!"

"Right," Spencer said, stepping out of the corridor's shadows and looking directly at his other self, Pinhead having already regained his balance to look at his 'other half' with a casual smile.

"So," he said, looking almost casually at his other self, clearly confident in his own power, "you have returned."

"Yes," Spencer replied, a slight tension in his stance the only indication of the fear he had to be feeling as he faced the creature that turned his life into a nightmare. "This ends now."

Before Pinhead could respond to that, Spawn and Illyria- who had taken up position behind Pinhead while he was distracted by Spencer's arrival- lashed out at his back with two powerful punches, sending the Cenobite stumbling forward and momentarily knocking him off-balance. The blows themselves weren't that damaging- Spawn hadn't even used his blades-, but the purpose hadn't been to damage Pinhead, but merely to bring him within range of his other self.

"My turn," Spencer said grimly, as he stepped forward, his hands seizing his other self by the wrists before the Cenobite could regain his balance.

As soon as the captain had grabbed Pinhead's arms, both men's faces assumed expressions of barely-repressed pain- Angel was prepared to bet that Pinhead's nature as a Cenobite meant that he experienced limited pain himself; why seek out others to experience something you could endure yourself?-, their foreheads literally stretched out from their heads, linking and wrapping around each other before the rest of their bodies began to combine. Accompanied by a sound that sounded like a twisted combination of bones being crushed and something being submerged in water, Spencer and Pinhead's bodies briefly seemed to become one, their heads a mangled mess as the flesh combined, before Spencer seemed to be literally 'sucked' into Pinhead, a brief flash of brilliant blue light momentarily overwhelming their vision before it faded away, to reveal only Pinhead standing before them.

* * *

Glancing down at himself for a moment, Pinhead raised an eyebrow, almost as though he was waiting for something to happen, before he looked up at the Coven, a curious expression on his face that somehow managed to look satisfied and puzzled at the same time.

"An… interesting… strategy," he said, his gaze fixed on Angel as he spoke; whether he now 'remembered'- thanks to Spencer's presence- that Angel was the one who had come up with this plan or was just addressing the leader, none of the Coven were sure. "But… to what end?"

"Look, Pinhead," Angel said, looking resolutely at the Cenobite as he walked forward to glare at the monster that had once been a man, forcing himself not to think about how easily the creature before him could tear him apart over a prolonged period if he wanted to do so, "if flesh is what you want, how's this; you spare us, and in return, you get unrestricted access- without a fight- to the Creeper and It."

For a moment Pinhead looked silently at Angel, contemplation on his face, before he nodded.

"I am… intrigued," he said simply.

"They're literally functionally immortal and have a lethal reputation of causing terror and pain in their respective worlds," Angel said, continuing to look at Pinhead. "I don't deny that you'd probably beat us in a fight, but considering that we'd fight you to the end to stop you taking us, coupled with the fact that they're already immobilised…"

That last comment seemed to do it for Pinhead.

"I accept," he said, before turning to look at the temporarily-immobilised immortals that had once been his allies with a casual smirk. "Now then…"

Without even a wave of his hand, Pinhead automatically summoned a full set of chains to bind his former 'allies'- if they could even be considered that-, before he casually turned to look at Angel, a slight smile on his face.

"I will depart," he said simply. "Along with those I have already sent there in recent times, these two shall provide my kin with a great deal of… material… before we seek new pleasures."

Angel didn't bother responding to that.

He didn't like the implications of Pinhead's last statement- the idea that the Cenobite had taken some of the Gathering's victims into his realm during his time on Earth was far from a comfortable thought-, but right now they didn't have much choice but to accept the situation; they'd already tried to fight Pinhead and had accomplished nothing, and with him the only member of the Gathering left active, they could save more lives by letting him go than they could even hope to release by trying to fight him.

Even as those grim thoughts crossed Angel's mind, Pinhead turned around and walked into the shadows at the back of the conference room, subsequently vanishing into the darkness, It and the Creeper being dragged along after him even as the monstrous creatures began to stir back into consciousness before vanishing into nothingness.

* * *

For a moment, the Coven simply stared silently at where the Cenobite had just vanished from view, until Spike turned to look uncertainly at Angel.

"That's it?" he said, waving a hand at where their old adversaries had just vanished from view. "What happened to that bloody box they were talking about in his file?"

"Well, we're already just a slight dimensional shift away from Hell in our current location; it's possible that Pinhead didn't need to go through the box to go back to Hell when he's this… close to it," Angel said, shrugging uncertainly.

"As for where it is now," Leo put in, walking forward to better address Spike as he stood beside Angel, "either Clown had it on him when he was dragged into Hell, or it's still somewhere in here-"

"In which case," Cole put in, his gaze fixed on an upper corner of the room, "it'll probably be destroyed when this place collapses, and I would rather _not _join it if that's an option at this juncture."

"What-?" Angel began, turning to look at the area where Cole was directing his gaze, only for his eyes to widen as he saw what Cole was looking at; the upper corner of the room was actually starting to disintegrate even as the vampire looked at it, the stonework crumbling away to reveal more of the swirling red… stuff, for lack of a better term… that they'd seen when the Horseman had departed with Clown.

"Everyone get out, _now_!" he yelled, turning to look back at the Coven even as the demon within him thrilled at the 'feel' of Hell so close to them. With the Gathering gone, this pocket dimension that had served as their base had evidently decided that there was no longer any reason for it to be here and had decided to begin to collapse, leaving all those remaining inside it at increasing risk of exposure to whatever hell dimension they were currently located in.

None of the Coven needed telling twice; as soon as Angel had given his order, Spawn, Leo and Cole each grabbed on to the two other Coven members nearest them…

* * *

Then, after the usual disorientation that always accompanied teleportation between dimensions, they found themselves back in their 'headquarters', slightly dazed but otherwise unharmed.

"Whoa…" Hellboy muttered, shaking his head slightly as he looked over at the others, a broad smile spreading across his face as he looked at them. "We won…"

"Yeah, I know," Angel said, smiling himself as he looked around at his assorted allies. "Great job, everyone; we've beaten a collection of the most ruthless serial killers it's ever been our displeasure to encounter, and we're all still here. It's been… well, to call it an honour would be an understatement, but it's the closest I can get… to fight with you all-"

"Yes, yes, very touching little speech, vampire," a voice said from behind the Coven. "Now, if you don't mind, can we get down to business, please?"

Spinning around to look at the new arrival, the Coven were surprised to see a tall man standing there, a bored expression on his weathered-looking face as he stared at them, dressed in long white robes.

"What the… _Odin_?" Leo said, looking incredulously at the new arrival.

"Hold on; _Odin_?" Constantine repeated, turning around to look at Leo in surprise. "As in the _Norse God _Odin? Wasn't he supposed to only have _one _eye?"

"I'm not _that _Odin, exorcist; it's… well, it's all rather complicated and we don't have time to get into that right now," the figure said, waving a hand dismissively as he indicated Jason. "Anyway, the situation's simple; I'm an Elder- one of the people who, however indirectly, are _responsible _for this little group of ex-killers coming together in the first place-, and I'm here to send that ugly lump back where he belongs."

Constantine blinked.

"Hold on a minute; you're here to send Jason _back_?" he repeated, his eyes narrowing as he glared at Odin. "_Not _gonna happen; I didn't help him get over his issues-"

"Please, do you _really _think that just because you played nice with the homicidal maniac he's going to stay like this?" Odin asked, indicating where Jason was standing off to the side, the Crystal Lake Slasher looking slightly uncertainly at the man before him as though trying to understand what he was talking about. "Oh, I don't deny that he doesn't want to kill _you_ lot any more, but how long do you think _that's _going to last? Sooner or later his degenerate excuse of a brain _is _going to reach the point where he doesn't remember why he's not ripping you apart-"

"We helped him once, we can help him-" Constantine began.

"Even if you're willing to do it, you can't exactly protect him from getting _killed _again, you know," Odin said, his gaze fixed resolutely on Constantine. "As you so aptly concluded, Jason's ability to reason takes a not-insignificant knock every time he dies; sooner or later the big lug will reach the point where he can't even understand the basic reasoning you used to get him to fight with you at the moment, and _then _where will you be?"

For a moment the Coven and the Elder simply stared at each other, the Coven clearly waiting for Odin to elaborate on what he'd just told them, before Odin finally sighed in recognition that he needed to reveal more than he wanted to.

"Besides," the Elder said, looking grimly at the clearly-confused Jason as he continued to speak, "there's more than a few people back where he came from who could do some _very _ugly stuff if they aren't stopped by a certain hockey 'fan' of our acquaintance…"

Registering the confused looks his last comment had attracted from the rest of the Coven, Odin shrugged. "Oh, it's not that he'll retain the 'heroism'- if you could call it that- he might have 'picked up' from your team; it's just that they'll try and use our boy here for their own ends and he'll end up ripping them to pieces before they can get beyond the beginnings of their murder sprees or their attempts to harness his ability to regenerate for their own goals or something like that…"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "He might not save the day on purpose, but he _does _manage to stop those guys from doing any more damage; leave them to find something _else _to obsess over apart from Picasso-face over here, and who knows what else they could do?"

For a few moments the Coven simply stood in silence, each of them exchanging uncomfortable glances with each other, none of them happy about what they were being 'asked' to do, until Constantine sighed and turned back to look at Jason.

"You… you have to go now, Jason," he said, looking earnestly at the mass murderer who, in a weird way, had become a sort of child to him over these last few days. "We… have to say goodbye."

"Good… bye…?" Jason repeated, his voice still slow and uncertain as he looked back at the exorcist; Constantine could even swear he saw the faint trace of a tear on Jason's good eye.

"Yeah…" he said, reaching out to place a reassuring hand on Jason's shoulder, wishing that he could offer the being before him more than hollow words of virtually empty comfort. "But… it's been good knowing you, Jason Voorhees."

For a moment, as he looked back at Constantine, Jason seemed to smile under the mask.

"Friend…" he began to say, his voice cracking slightly even as he spoke, continuing to show the signs of its long disuse.

"Friend," Constantine confirmed, nodding solemnly at Jason. "Thank you, Jason Voorhees."

"From all of us," Angel put in, stepping forward to nod solemnly at the mask-wearing killer before them. "You helped us, Jason; hold on to that, if nothing else."

Before Jason could reply, Odin waved his hand, and Jason vanished in a cloud of dark blue light, Odin vanishing shortly afterwards in the familiar light blue orbs of an Elder, leaving the Coven alone in their headquarters, staring silently at the location where their all-too-brief ally had stood mere moments ago.

He might have been a killer back on his own world- and, from what Odin said, he would almost certainly revert to old habits when he returned to it-, but, for a few brief, shining moments, he'd been one of them.

They could only hope that their friendship- however brief it had been- had been appreciated by Jason; maybe, at some future date, it might help him in some dark time…

It wasn't likely, of course, but anything was possible in the end; with Jason returned to his world, all they could do know was hope for the best for their old ally.

"Well," Spike said, looking around at the others as he jerked his thumb towards a drinks cabinet that had appeared in one 'corner' of their 'base'- their pocket dimensional home had shown an interesting ability to 'summon' food and drink for them if they'd spent too long in it without returning to the 'real world' for a rest while training-, "personally speaking, I plan on just kicking back up here and getting sloshed; after dealing with _those _assholes, I think we've earned a break."

"Amen to that," Hellboy confirmed, giving Spike a brief thump on the back with his flesh hand as the two of them walked over to the cabinet, the rest of the Coven close behind them.

Even as Angel began to pour his drink, however, he couldn't shake the one thought that had been nagging him since Blade had initially pointed out that the Gathering's activities were too straightforward; who had brought the Gathering together in the first place?

And, more importantly, _why _had they created the Gathering?

Angel didn't know the answer to either question yet, but he had a strong feeling that none of them were going to enjoy finding out what the answer actually was…

Even as those thoughts crossed Angel's mind, he was unaware that their headquarters was even now under observation from a lower plane of existence by the very being whose motives now dominated his thoughts.

_Perfect_, the creature mused, allowing himself a smile as he studied the sight before him.

Even if the vampire and some of his associates did have their suspicions about the true purpose of the Gathering, in their current location, by the time they learned the truth about the reasons for bringing that group of degenerate thugs together, it would be too late for them to do anything.

He had planned for this moment for the past few thousand years.

He had selected his troops…

He had prepared his strategies…

He had allocated the relevant targets…

And, most importantly, he had made sure that the group that was most likely to amass the strongest opposition to his actions was distracted and otherwise occupied at the crucial moment.

As his selected generals came to stand before him, Satan, for perhaps the first time since he had initially made the decision to rebel against God, felt a strong sense of certainty about what was to come.

_Nothing _could stop him now…

**To Be Continued…**

**In…**

_**THE SATAN WAR**_


End file.
